Finding Air
by Sveedish Chef
Summary: Ben involves Riley in something much more dangerous than he expected. As they both struggle with allegiance and guilt, their integrity and beliefs are severely challenged by two polar opposite world views. Conspiracies, cluster headaches, and jackalopes!
1. Chapter 1

**I have a QUESTION FOR YOU! Do you know where Ben, Abi, Riley, and co live? I've had a total brain fart and can't figure out which city they live in. THANKS!**

**Heluu there. Bork! Are you reading this? The first chapter here was a random typing spree I went on one day and said, HMMM. Fanfiction looks like fun, I think I'll join the hordes of fangirls. **

**All these places are **_**fictional**_**, based on **real** places in the charming state of ****Utah****.**

**As for the plot… I think something should have happened to Riley in at least one of the movies. If they knew what was good for their ratings that's what they **_**would**_** have done, anyways. I think the next movie should crawl its way up to PG-13. **

**The POV keeps switching around, but I WARN you before I do that. I think. Mostly. Rated for extremely mild language, maybe twice. On the safe side. It's kind of sad, actually. **

**Disclaimer: Pretty much don't own anything. At all. Except Laudes and I don't even want her. Don't tell her that though.**

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"I still don't understand this. And I feel like, as the smart-ass sidekick, I have a right to know what's going on. I just hacked into the most secure network in the world to find a random series of symbols you seem to think are significant and I don't even know what to tell the cops I was doing when they catch me and interrogate me and stick rods of metal up my-"

"As a matter of fact, that wasn't the most secure network in the world, you are just _too deft _at hacking to get yourself arrested, and everything will be explained in due time." I paused to glance at my young companion. "Riley, this is more important than anything you've ever done. This isn't a treasure hunt." Riley turned to look at me, surprised.

"Um, should I be concerned? Are we being followed by a herd of ninjas?" he asked, looking behind us. No-one was following, I had been keeping my eye on the rearview mirror.

"We're working with the president. I'd say we're pretty safe. I'd be more concerned about foreign intervention."

"Well ninjas are usually foreign." He gave me a serious look for once.

"Ben, really, what's going on? I mean, if this is important enough to get other countries sending ninjas after us, I have a strong suspicion it's pretty important. What are we searching for, I mean are we even searching for something? Is this going to end up with the US having complete global control because of what we do, because that's a little against my morals."

"Forget the ninjas, Riley." I sat silent for a moment. Remarkably, so did Riley. He was watching me. He had a point, if I was going to drag him into something this big he had a right to know what it was about before he got in too deep. I hadn't wanted to tell him at first because I wasn't sure who else was involved or knew what we were doing. The less people knew what was going on, the better. I didn't want to put Riley in danger because of something he knew. I could tell not knowing was really bugging him, though, and it would have bugged me too.

"Ok…. Ok, I'll tell you when we get back to the hotel. I don't want to do it when we're driving. No, not at the hotel, they've got cameras and stuff. How about…" I eyed the countryside around us. It would look funny to anyone that might be watching if we just pulled over. However I did it, it couldn't be suspicious. Riley was watching me and I knew the gears were turning.

"So this is something so important that it would take so much concentration telling me the story that you wouldn't be able to keep us on County Road 89, the straightest and flattest and emptiest road known to man, going through a wasteland where no-one else ever drives and there aren't any animals to leap suicidally in front of us? Am I old enough to even hear this?" I didn't reply. I was still thinking. He'd understand once I told him.

"Next rest stop," I said.

"And you have to tell me why we had to come out to Nowhereville just so I could hack something."

"Of course, yeah, everything will be revealed."

"Wow, it's like Christmas Eve." He sighed and looked out the window. My eyes wandered around the landscape. He was right; it had to be the most desolate place I'd ever driven. There were monoliths of stone sticking out of the ground miles away, but they were the only elevation. They looked much closer than they were, and yet… they could also look impossibly far away. I thought it was beautiful. It looked as though it should be sweltering outside but due to the month, which was October, it was rather chilly. Cold winds swept persistently across the landscape, pushing gently at the side of the car, where we sat in heated silence. The silence was eerie and made me a bit uncomfortable but I left it to Riley to break it, which I had total faith that he would.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, pointing to our right.

"What? What is it?" I asked frantically, looking for secret agent men appearing out of the desert or ninjas popping up from behind dead sagebrush. Thanks, Riley.

"It's like a deer or something! Wow, there's a lot of them." I sighed.

"Mule-deer." There was indeed a herd of mule-deer staring at us blankly as we sped past.

"Hey, you think we'll see a jackalope?"

"Jackalopes don't exist."

"How do you know?"

"There was a confirmation in the President's Book." His eyes widened.

"Seriously?" I gave him a look.

"No. There really are jack-rabbits hopping around with antlers on their heads, which makes perfect evolutionary and anatomical sense."

I watched his face as it fell into mock hurt. His face looked a bit funny. His eye twitched. I smiled. Then the mock hurt was wiped away by an alarming shade of panicky dread. I was well-acquainted with the many faces of Riley but this is one I only ever associated with serious situations that usually involved the possibility of death.

"What?" I asked, looking around. Had he seen something? He didn't say anything. His face was registering horrified disbelief. He took off his glasses and placed them on the dash.

"Riley, what? What's going on?" I slowed the car down.

"No… not again… dammit! Stop the car," he groaned quietly, wincing. He hunched over in his seat, shoulders curling inwards, head drooping. I stopped the car. His right hand was pressed against his right eye now, left fist on his forehead. I put the car in park, turned off the engine. He started fumbling with the door handle. I jumped out my side and scrambled over to his. What in the world was going on? His face was creased with pain, eyes squeezed shut. Concern washed through me. Where was the nearest hospital? I had no idea. There wasn't one in the town we were staying at. His door popped open as I stopped in front of it. He started falling out and I caught him around the shoulders.

"Riley, what the hell is going on? What is this, what's happening?" He wasn't making much of an effort to do anything but pressing on his face and grimacing. I guided him to a conveniently placed and sized rock nearby but he crumpled before we got there. I couldn't support the sudden shift in weight and I had to lower him to the rocky, sandy ground. He lay on his side, curling into himself. I heard an agonized groan escape his lips, quickly stifled. Kneeling by his side, I pried at his hands, trying to get a look at his face.

"Riley. Riley! I need to know what's going on! Do you need medical attention, a hospital, should I call an ambulance?" Which was, I know, a ridiculous thing to do. It might take an ambulance hours to get where we were.

"No…I'll be fine, just….need to wait…" He was having trouble speaking. Tears were running across his face from his eyes. He turned onto his back and writhed like a skewered worm, the rocks underneath him grinding together and probably into his back and head. I pulled him half onto my lap.

"Riley, you look like you're dying. Are you dying?" The panic I was feeling masked the horror of the thought of his possible death in my voice. I put my hand on his forehead, feeling for a temperature. He felt normal enough to me.

"I'll… be fine… a while…. Sorry… Aaaaaahh…."

"Don't be sorry," I mumbled absently, my mind tumbling. What was happening? He seemed to know what was happening, seemed to think he'd be all right, which is something I never would have guessed. He tossed to his side onto the gravel, trying to bury his head with his arms. I pulled him back up onto me and held him there. I didn't know what to say. After a moment I finally registered that it was cold out, a chill and steady wind blowing across the desolation surrounding us. I had been driving in a tee shirt and I felt the goosebumps crawling all up my body. Riley was wearing a light flannel shirt with the sleeves pushed up and I wondered if he even registered that he was cold.

"Um…" It felt weird talking to him when he was in such a state. "We should get back in the car, it's pretty cold out here."

"No," he groaned decisively.

"Um… ok…" I wondered what to do. What if being cold made it worse, whatever it was?

"I need a jacket then," I said, and making no move to do so. I glanced up and down the road, checking for any approaching cars. No-one. I didn't know if I should feel relieved or disappointed, not that anyone else would know how to help. A brief moment of panic struck me; I was alone out here. Riley was suffering from something debilitating, I had no idea what it was, I didn't know what to do, he didn't seem willing to communicate. How long would this last? Would it even get better? I tore my eyes from the road, which was surprisingly hard to do. An endless stretch of road cutting through clear desert settled my mind and was far easier to look at than Riley, who was curled on his side, right hand buried in his hair, looking like he was about to yank out a fistful of his scalp.

"Riley…" I said, not knowing what else to say. I tried to pry his fingers out of his hair, but his fingers were like little bars of tempered steel.

"Riley, you're going to give yourself a headache, let go of your head." He gave a little laugh/sob and it occurred to me that it was quite obvious he already had a headache, which was the reason he was trying to tear his hair out. His hands were flexing spontaneously and I attempted to disattach them from his head in the brief moments he loosened up. Once that was accomplished I held his wrist away, tried to pin it to his shoulder. His breathing was coming out ragged and irregular, rasping loudly in and out clenched teeth. I bent over him to see his face. His right cheek was covered in tears, both eyes clamped shut. My heart pounded loudly in my chest, I could hear blood rushing through my ears. I didn't know what to do so I just held him to my body, completely forgetting I was cold.

His slow writhing became more violent; he looked like he was trying to twist out of something's grasp, and I got the impression it wasn't mine. All of his muscles seemed rigid and his arms were shaking - his whole body was shaking. His quiet groans became louder cries that wrenched at my heart, and I found myself wanting suddenly to get up and run away from him and the noises he made. Not a thought from my own waking mind, but from somewhere deeper in human instinct. Or maybe from the weakness that every soul holds. Empathy wasn't one of my stronger characteristics but I felt it emerging, ripping at my gut, and I felt physically sick. It passed in a wave but the pathos remained. I wished he would stop. I wanted him to tell me what was going on. I wanted his face to relax. I wanted him to smile and I wanted to see his eyes.

"Jesus, Riley," I whispered to no-one, staring at the sky above a distant snow-capped mountain. It was curiously out of place. I tried to focus on the mountain for a moment, thinking that we both had to just wait it out and there was no reason to burden my eyes and mind with what was going on right in front of me. But I didn't know that. What was going on here was as much of a mystery as why there would be one, giant, snowy mountain in the middle of a desert.

He remained in that condition for what felt like an hour. It must have been more like fifteen minutes though. His twisting activity slowed and he stopped emitting pitiful noises and the relief I was feeling I selfishly thought must have been more than the relief he probably felt at the apparent remission of pain. I felt bad then. After a while his muscles started relaxing and his clenched fists were converted to limp limbs draped across his face. His breathing slowed down and became more regular. Forty-five minutes after the whole thing was started he lay limp on my lap, on his side, face still covered. I was fairly confident, due to his regular breathing and relative relaxed state, that he wasn't dead. I decided to venture my voice.

"Riley."

"Ugh…" was the answer I got. He was conscious, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Are you ok?"

"I… will be ok." His voice was muffled. He made no attempt to get up, or in any way shift his dead weight from my lap.

"You need anything?"

"No."

"Are you cold?"

"No." Silence reigned. I realized it was the first time I had ever been with Riley that silence had reigned so heavily. Except when he was asleep, which is something I started thinking he was doing at the moment. Then he shifted. He rolled off my lap and got his arms under him and started to push himself up. I stood up and helped him to his feet, then turned him around and looked at him.

"You look terrible." His right eyelid drooped a bit and was red and teary looking, his hair mussed and full of sand and bits of ground matter.

"Thanks," he responded.

"You need to stand now, or get in the car?" In response he made his way the few steps to the car and leaned against it, taking deep, shaky breaths. I went to stand next to him, looking at him expectantly. He noticed my stare without turning my direction.

"That…was….a cluster headache," he said, speaking the sentence like he had difficulty lacing the words together.

"A cluster headache?"

"A cluster headache."

"What's a cluster headache?"

"A really bad headache."

"Couldn't tell." He didn't respond, rubbing his temple.

"You have these often?"

"I get them once every six to… eighteen months," he said, rather bitterly. "Periods last for a few weeks, during which I might have two or three a day. Hence 'cluster'," he added morosely. He looked rather upset suddenly, and quite acceptably. I would be upset if suddenly faced with the prospect of spending the next few weeks writhing in pretty much constant pain. His eyes closed tiredly.

"Um… wow, I'm tired." I guided him to the backseat door and opened it, helping him in. I fetched his jacket from the front seat and bundled it up.

"Best pillow we've got right now," I said, throwing it at him. He immediately slumped over sideways, clutching the thing under his head. I shut the door. Upon hopping in my own door and closing it quietly, he spoke up.

"Um… Ben, sorry, but can we have the windows open? The coldness helps…"

"Of course, as long as you don't get pneumonia or something. I'll be fine in my jacket." I pressed the automatic window lowerer button thing and the windows started sliding down. I turned in my seat. Riley was curled on his side across the backseat, looking exhausted and miserable.

"Ok… I don't know where the nearest hospital is but once we get to Henrytown I'll find out-"

"I don't need a hospital. Is there a clinic in Henrytown?"

"Ah, probably, I don't know. I mean, they'll at least have a doctor."

"I'd kind of just like a tank of oxygen. Usually works…" His eyes closed and I nodded. Turned in my seat and started the car.

No one had driven past in over an hour.

Riley was completely silent for the next two hours, excepting the ' 'm fine''s he was giving me whenever I asked how he was doing. Which made the ride possibly the worst two hours I'd ever spent in a car, even more surprising because I was spending them in his company. His response also meant he wasn't sleeping. I didn't know whether that was a good sign or a bad sign.

I wondered while I drove how long he'd been dealing with this condition. Without me knowing, too. I'd been his friend since college and somehow this situation reminded me of when we first met. Not the same thing at all but suddenly… Here we were again, I was stuck taking care of him, him who insisted he was ok but most obviously was not. I'd do some research on cluster headaches when I got back, figure out if there was something he should be doing or something to take that would prevent these things. I wouldn't put it past him to not have anything that would help on hand because of the cost.

I sighed.

Now of all times. They decided to strike _right now, _now when I needed Riley's brain the most. If every headache lasted one hour and there were three a day… when

would we know when they'd strike? I wouldn't be able to take him anywhere. Besides the fact that a cluster headache in a public area would be kind of embarrassing to him, it would draw a lot of attention to us. I prayed there was nothing life-threatening about the headaches; I really didn't want to abandon our search just to take him in to a hospital somewhere a million miles away.

I shook my head. Not like I wouldn't do that. And I'd be glad to. I thought. I told myself. Well, we _were _trying to save the world here, pretty much. One man's life wasn't going to stop us… I told myself doubtfully… It was my best friend. I dragged him into it, I suppose it was on my shoulders if he needed to be drug back out again. Hopefully if that needed to happen it wouldn't interfere with the rest of our plans though.

But I needed his skills.

I wasn't a hacker. This project of ours was practically one big hack. I wouldn't be able to do it without him. And sure, I knew my history. But Riley was the expert on weird conspiracies and theories and stuff, something else that would prove invaluable. There had to be other people out there that knew about weird government stuff but there was no way I was dragging anyone else into this. No way. The only person I trusted to help me were the people I already had available, which I was grateful for. Riley. I wasn't going to

drag my wife into this, but I'd always trust Abigail with anything. Somehow I doubted she'd be all that much help in this kind of search, though, and if I was able to leave her out of it I would. The president, although he had the President's Book, wasn't a well of knowledge either. A bright man, but one that I couldn't exactly be hanging out with, let alone calling, e-mailing, or communicating in any way with. So it was basically me and Riley. And I was the only one who knew what was going on.

A sign flew by. It had taken me by surprise, as I suppose I must have been able to see it coming for miles. It said, 'Next rest area five miles'. I checked the back seat. Riley appeared to be sleeping. It was the last chance I had to tell him.

Now that I thought about it, although we were staying at the best hotel in Henrytown, it was also the only hotel in Henrytown. I doubted it had cameras. They didn't even have a computer at the front desk.

As we neared the exit to the rest area, and I contemplated whether or not to take it, Riley sat up.

"Your timing is immaculate. I've decided the hotel won't have any cameras. You want to hear the schpiel here or at the hotel?"

"Here." His atypical short answer made me once again turn in my seat and glance at him. His face was a little paler than usual. Or it may have been the light. His eye looked a lot better.

"You're not driving on my face, Ben, watch the road." I turned back, a little relieved he was still able to crack stupid jokes.

The building was tiny but generally well-kept. I figured the guy who cleaned the place didn't get that many customers but didn't have anything else to do. An evening cleaning the ol' rest area had to be as exciting as an evening in Henrytown.

The air was getting colder. As I stepped out of the car the wind ripped straight through my jacket and started freezing together my nose hairs. Riley had pulled on his jacket and was looking at me.

"Let's, uh, take a walk." I started perambulating into the vast nowhere we were surrounded by. I pretended to be interested in a patch of bright yellow flowers in a tiny canyon thing. Riley followed me down slowly. I leaned back against the cold but dry sandy wall of the ravine, looking around. A good place to tell a top-secret secret. No-one could see us down here. Riley lowered himself to sit next to me. We sat in silence for another few minutes. I poked at the yellow flowers dangling in front of my shoe.

"Beeflower," said Riley.

"You know what this stuff is?" I asked incredulously. He'd never struck me as the planty type.

"I happen to know quite a lot about desert ecology," he replied, a touch of pride in his voice.

"How in the world did you come to be interested in desert ecology?"

"I've been out backpacking here a few times. Well, not _here,_ but out by the real Canyonlands." Another page in the Riley Manual was flipped open to me. I was discovering a lot of new chapters on this trip.

"Hey. What's going on?" asked a voice above my head. I couldn't believe I hadn't heard the lady coming. She stood directly over us on the bank of the valley and looked a bit murderous. Dressed in a janitor's outfit, graying hair pulled back in a tight braid, she was formidable from this angle. And she was carrying a broom like she was ready to knock our heads off.

"Um. We were just getting some air. We've been driving for a while. I wanted to know what those yellow flowers were," I invented, pointing.

"Beeflower. Anything else you wanted to know?" I wondered if she considered this little plot of land hers and thought we were trespassing. It _was _public land.

"Well actually, my friend here knows quite a bit about desert ecology. I was just going to strike up a scholarly conversation about it."

"Oh really." She glared at Riley, looking like she didn't believe at all that this young man wearing Converse and a jacket that said 'ecki-ecki-ecki-ecki phtang zoop-boing z'nourrwringmm' on it would know the first thing about desert ecology, and I couldn't say I blamed her. Riley got that look in his eyes that he always got when someone doubted what he said. I was, I admit, quite familiar with that look. I shouldn't have been.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, we _were_ about to strike up a scholarly conversation. I was just about to point out that my friend was sitting in a patch of poisonous arrowgrass, for one thing." I looked down at the grass under me.

"What?"

"Not that you'll get poisoned, I just thought it would be funny to see your face." I shifted to a plantless area and looked back up at our observer, who was giving Riley a scrutinizing look.

"Yeah? What are _you_ sitting in?" Riley looked down.

"Um, cheatgrass. Dang nabbit," he said, struggling upright and brushing at his back.

"That's foxtail chess."

"No, it's cheatgrass. It's red."

"No, it's mature foxtail chess. It's spring."

"But cheatgrass is red anyways."

"Look how short it is."

"Lack of water."

"It's growing in a dry streambed."

"Do you see any water?"

"What do you think carved out this little ravine?"

"You know what…" Riley pointed his finger accusationally, but couldn't come up with any words.

"Fine, whatever. You win, I can never tell them apart." The woman at the top looked triumphant but had lost her dubious look. When she smiled she actually looked like a nice old lady.

"You a bio major then?" she asked, leaning on her broom handle. I looked at Riley, silently telling him to be careful.

"Um… no, I've just been out here a lot. Backpacking. You get to know these things."

"You like backpacking out here? Ever read Edward Abbey?" Riley's eyes lit up and a smile cracked itself across his face.

"I love that guy!"

"Me too! Monkey Wrench Gang?"

"Yeah! I finished it last summer! Good book. I've noticed the billboards around here are pretty hefty." The lady smiled and laughed a bit.

"Yes, yes they are. Was actually a real problem back then. Small one, but you know when you're a business out here in the middle of nowhere you kind of rely on them." She looked above our heads, wistful and smiling for a moment. Riley was still grinning.

"Cool," he said.

"What?" I said. "No, never mind, never mind." I didn't quite know what to do at this point. Leaving abruptly would be rude now but getting back to town as soon as possible would be ideal, for Riley's sake. I had no idea when the next headache might strike and I didn't know if he knew. I figured in order to not be rude we should at least join the lady back up where she was. I struggled up the slope and helped Riley come up. He was moving a little stiffly, I noticed. No surprise.

"Well… I figure we should probably get going pretty soon…"

"You got an important meeting in Henrytown?" she asked, as if she totally understood. Funny lady. Seemed like a trustworthy one.

"Actually… my friend here kind of needs a clinic. Is there one in Henrytown?" She turned a curious gaze on Riley momentarily, who looked intensely embarrassed and a bit upset.

"There's a little house right across from the gas station, it's white. Doesn't look like a clinic but it is. Hope you're alright, we can't be loosing people who care about this place, there aren't a lot of them anymore." Riley gave a little laugh.

"I'm not going anywhere, don't worry."

"Thanks," I said.

"You staying in town?" she asked, as if such a thing were absurd. Which it was, kind of.

"Ah… yes. Yes we are." _Please don't ask any more questions, lady._

"Really? Seeing the Hoodoos?" What?

"Um… what?" Her face fell a little bit.

"The Hoodoos? Hoodoo Valley State Park? Just down the road? The only reason anyone ever comes here?"

"Oh the Hoodoos. Right. The park. Well. No, we're just on our way through."

"Where you headed?" I lost my voice. Riley spoke up.

"We're actually going to Capitol Reef. To see the drawings on the walls. Petroglyphs." He nodded. Understanding on her face, thank God.

"Ah, the petroglyphs. Well if you get time I suggest checking the Hoodoos out, it's really the weirdest place you'll ever set foot."

"Is it?" I asked, as if I was fascinated. She nodded.

"Well we'll remember that. Thank you! Ah, we really should get going, you know, um Ri…" I stopped myself before completing his name. "Uh, how are you feeling?" I asked in exaggerated concern.

In response he groaned a little and put a hand to his head. I hoped he was acting.

"Ok, well, we should get you to that clinic… thanks very much… um…"

"Name's Laudes." She looked at us with expectation. I cursed myself for inquiring into her name; now she wanted ours.

"Dan," I said, holding out my hand. She shook it.

"Ri," said Riley, with a touch of sarcasm.

"Well… nice to meet you, Laudes…maybe see you around, eh?"

"Small town. Good luck you two, hope you feel better soon."

"Thanks!" With that we departed the rest area, having achieved nothing at all. Hadn't even straightened out whether Riley had sat in foxtail chess or cheatgrass, and I didn't even know why that may or may not have mattered. We reached the car.

"For real, how are you?" I asked him. He gave me a thumbs up sign but his face wasn't very happy. He got into the passenger seat. I got into the driver's seat.

"You don't look like you're alright."

"That was so totally cheatgrass. She doesn't know what she's talking about." I shook my head and started the car. As I drove onto the exit a jackrabbit sprung out in front of the bumper and I slammed on the breaks, whipping us both forward in our seats. The thing sat there in the middle of the road, looking befuddled. I honked the horn.

"I'll bet jackalopes aren't that dumb," muttered Riley. "They've got to have a bigger brain to support a rack." He gazed absently at the animal in front of us. It finally loped slowly off the road. I started driving again. I turned to ask Riley if he was still alright but his head was buried in his hands again. We got off the exit and I pulled over.

"Another headache?" He nodded. _Jesus._

"Just let me get in back, I need writhing room." The words carried no humor. He got out and crawled into the backseat again.

"You sure you don't want to get out?"

"Drive." I pulled onto the road again as Riley took off his jacket. As the minutes went by I thought for a moment that the headache wasn't going to be as bad as the first one, but upon looking back at him I knew he was trying to stifle the moans and the thrashing. After the first ten minutes I could hear his breath coming out shaky again, irregular. Fifteen minutes and he was sobbing quietly.

It was one of the strangest situations I had ever been in. I drove down the road to nowhere with my friend crying and squirming in the backseat, where I couldn't see him. It was eerie and very disturbing. I told myself the only thing I could do for him was get him to town, find the white house across from the gas station. I hoped there was only one gas station in town. Probably.

One hour later I could see Henrytown and my level of concern had busted through the roof. He wasn't even in the remissive stage yet. This was like twice as long as his first one. I had tried to ask him if this was normal, if he would be ok, but he wasn't responding. Aside from one 'Oh God' about twenty minutes beforehand, no words had come through his mouth. I was intensely worried, but the only thing I could think to do was get him to the clinic. I wondered if the doctors in Henrytown even knew what a cluster headache was. The population was so small. Probably only ever got hypothermic and heat stroke patients. Maybe a snakebite or two. I wondered why in the world a doctor would choose to work all the way out here. Worry settled pungently around my heart. What if they couldn't help him? What if we'd have to call in a helicopter? How inconspicuous. No doubt anyone trying to thwart our mission would know who Riley was, probably had his medical records, knew he got cluster headaches, would hear about the kid in Henrytown being airlifted out for a cluster headache.

I stopped myself. I was being paranoid. Paranoid and selfish. If Riley needed to be airlifted out, he would be airlifted out and there would be no protestations from me. Even if it meant being caught. _You won't be caught. No-one has his medical records. No-one will notice a helicopter airlifting someone from Henrytown._ I stopped myself again. Riley probably wouldn't end up being airlifted out. He'd be fine. Although at the moment he looked and sounded as if he was about to die.

I passed the first abandoned yard, full of hollow and faded car skeletons. Half a minute later I was in the heart of Henrytown, where a little grocery store, a rickety looking restaurant, and a gas station resided. Across from the gas station sat a white house with peeling paint and a small wooden sign on the front that may have once read 'Clinic' back in the 1800's when the building was erected.

"Not a very visitor-friendly place," I muttered, and my own voice shocked me after the long silence. I pulled into the driveway, then twisted in my seat to face Riley.

"Well, here we are. You want to come in or should I just go ask for a tank of oxygen?" To my amazement, he responded.

"I hate this!" Not the response I had wanted, but a response nonetheless. He was coming in with me, if I had to carry him. Thoughts of the mission at hand disappeared for once and I was no longer conflicted between assuring Riley's well-being and assuring the availability of his brains. I simply wanted him to stop hurting.

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**I suppose I've made Riley somewhat of an environmentalist, kind of, which makes no sense given his chosen car. Whatever. Also, I've done only a small amount of research on cluster headaches and still don't fully understand them. If someone happens to know something I don't about them, let me know, because they really aren't something to screw around with and I want that part of the story to be as factual as possible.**

**So – Like it? Despise it? Know how to improve my writing style? Have any plot ideas? Do jackalopes exist? Do they? DO THEY?!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Aw, you guys are all awesome. Hearts out to all you reviewers and other people who read the first chapter. I've done some serious brain-storming and I believe I've finally got the plot down. Or at least I know what they're doing out in the desert. And what the bad guys are up to.**

**Thuraya Known – I'm glad you think the characters are complex! That's good feedback for me, I never really have a sense of how I'm doing with that, so thank you.**

**WhiseFoohL – Yeah… not sure if it's right, but I do enjoy my Riley angst. I've been keeping an eyeball on your story, I really love it!**

**Ellina HOPE – Thanks for the advice on where to find research: Wiki is pretty much my hero. No Abigail yet, she doesn't seem like she'd be fun to write with so I'm not going to. I like writing about Ben and Riley. This won't be slash, though. Not a thing against slash, I just don't think I could write it. Actually I have a hard time with romance in general, so there probably won't be much romance between anyone in this story. As for the jacket – heheh, it's already a shirt. I found it on under Geekwear. I'm not cool enough to invent something like that!**

**Rebell – Gah, I love your review! 'Twas long. And made me smile vastly! Thanks so much for all the stuff about clusters, too. Yeah, episodic sounds about right. Ben didn't know about clusters because, well, no-one really does. Whenever I bring them up, (for whatever inane reason) no-one knows what I'm talking about. Anyways. Yeah, they'll probably have a few shots fired at their heads. He'll probably end up running, and it's probably going to be during a headache. We'll see what happens… **

**And finally, about p.47. I tried, I really tried, to work that into the plot I came up with, but as of right now, it has nothing to do with p.47. It really should but I can't make that make sense. And yes, this is pretty world-altering… haven't got all the kinks worked out yet but if this was real, we'd all have reason to worry.**

**riley-poole27 – You gave me a great idea! I think I **_**will**_** send them off to the Hoodoos at some point, although it sure won't be for sight-seeing!**

**And thanks so much to everyone else! If I didn't reply here I replied in my head and it's all great big 'thank-you's'! You're the reason I'm continuing!**

**In this chapter I mention American Indian style medicine and healing. I know next to nothing about it but I hold it in the highest esteem. I'm just writing what I think Ben would be thinking. **

Riley seemed to have enough consciousness left to preserve what I'm sure he'd have called his dignity, had he been willing to speak. I helped him out of the car but he refused to use me as support for the first few steps to the splintery wooden stairs of the clinic. I had trouble believing he could see were he was going, as both his eyes were squeezed shut. When we came to the stairs I decided he was going to trip and kill himself if I didn't help him up, so I did, and was surprised at his complete lack of protestation, even after I opened the door and walked him in. At this point he was leaning shamelessly into me and I was afraid he was going to fall over.

A quick scan of the place revealed it to be not quite as dingy as the exterior had made it seem… and just as unpopulated as I should have suspected. There had been no cars in the parking lot, and there was no-one waiting to be seen. Neither was there anyone behind the desk. I deposited Riley carefully in one of those terrible wooden 'waiting room' chairs and took a look down the hall. I opened my mouth to say 'anyone here' when, like a charm, the door behind me opened. I whirled around. An old man stared back at me.

"Oh, I thought I heard someone come in. My hearing isn't what it used to be. Can I help you?"

Any hope I had had of this place being able to help Riley went down the drain. From the looks of it, this old man was the only inhabitant of the entire clinic. I wondered when had been the last time he'd had a patient. He looked to be an American Indian, short black hair graying at the roots, and, although I was guilty to admit it to myself, I sincerely hoped this wasn't a tribal medicine kind of building. I'd never doubted the ability of that kind of healing, but cluster headaches seemed like it was a pretty obscure condition, as I'd never heard of it. I felt that specialized, scientific treatment might work better than chanting and herbs.

"Yes, yes you can help us. My friend," I said, dragging him to the waiting room, "he's having a cluster headache, I don't know what that is or what to do but please…" I petered off as I watched his face register the pathetic picture Riley made, crumpled in the chair, breaths shaking and head in his hands. His face didn't show much emotion. He turned back to me.

"How long has this spell lasted?"

"Over an hour."

"Do you know how long his spells usually last?"

"I've only ever seen one other, it may have been an hour, fifty minutes."

He approached Riley and squatted in front of him.

"Hello there. My name is Dr. Garrison Blackwell, can you answer me a few questions?" Riley may have nodded.

"Is this your first period of cluster headaches?" Riley shook his head.

"Have you tried any abortive treatment that hasn't worked?" Riley nodded. He spoke through his teeth.

"Lidocaine."

"Alright, I'll be right back." Dr. Blackwell left and disappeared down the hall. I took a seat next to Riley and put my arm around his shoulders, hoping Dr. Blackwell knew what he was doing. The ride here had seemed so long to me but I wondered then how long it had seemed to Riley. Constant severe pain allows no distractions to pass the time. Every minute lasted exactly sixty seconds for him. For me every minute flew by as I counted the sagebrush we passed, minutes of surreal landscape and strange buttes and mesas, clusters of 'beeflower'.

Dr. Blackwell arrived carrying a syringe. My dislike of needles, that phobia everyone claims to have, opened my mouth to speak for Riley.

"Um, he seems to think pure oxygen helps. Can't you do that instead?"

"Pure oxygen helps to abort an attack at the very onset. At his stage I doubt even this will help, but it's the only possibility available." He knelt in front of Riley.

"Need your arm for a moment, there, kid. This might dull the pain." Riley eyed the needle warily for a moment before handing over his left arm. The doctor made quick and smooth work of sticking him in the crook of the arm, then taping gauze over the area. When his arm was released it went back to its position over his face. I'm fairly certain the whole procedure bothered me more than it did Riley, who was a bit distracted at the moment. The doctor took a seat next to me.

"Waiting room is the friendliest room in this building; else we'd be somewhere else. I doubt anyone will come in while we sit, though. Your friend should be fine in due time, with any luck that sedative will kick in soon. I'll have to talk with him afterwards to try to determine what we can do for the rest of the attacks." He miraculously procured a clipboard from thin air, and a needle-sharp pencil as well.

"Mind answering a few preliminary questions for me?" Oh no. Here we go. I sat awkwardly for a moment, wondering what in the heck I was going to tell this man.

"That… really depends on what you want to know."

"Well, things like name and age."

"He's twenty-something. Maybe twenty three or four." I didn't even know how old he was, drat myself. We threw him a little party every year and I couldn't tell this man how old my best friend was. The man barely raised an eyebrow.

"How about name?" His voice was kindly and soft, as if he knew we'd just been through a whole lot of stress and sincerely wanted to help.

"His name is Ri. Ri Fasjovik," I replied, pulling the name out of some vague memory of way back when. Scribbling. I noticed he'd written down 'Riley Fasjovik'.

"How long have you known Ri?" His question didn't really register to me.

"Um, 'Ri' isn't short for 'Riley', it's, ah, his name is Ryan. Sorry." The doctor patiently erased 'Riley' and wrote 'Ryan' while I hastily re-wrote 'Ri' as 'Rye' in my head.

"Alright. Ryan Fasjovik. How long have you known him?"

"Quite a while but I've never known him to have these things."

"And how long will you be staying in Henrytown? Or were you just on your way through?" Stick to consistency, I thought, trying to recall what it was Riley had told Laudes.

"Because of this we'll probably be staying here for a night, but we were planning on heading east, to… the rock drawings. The petroglyphs." The doctor nodded in understanding, and his eyes caught something to my side. I turned to look at Riley.

"Ryan, how are you feeling?" I asked with great deliberation. He looked almost as if the headache had stopped. The tightness had left his muscles and his breathing was normal. Riley groaned.

"I'm great," he said, using the tone of voice one usually reserves for 'pass the morphine'. Dr. Blackwell smiled.

"I'm glad to see you lived through it. You know, it's kind of odd, in a town with a population of 362 we've already got one other guy running around having cluster headaches, and now you come along. What are the odds of that? Guess you're lucky, because of the other guy I have some stuff laying around that's likely to help. Unfortunately I can't give out any oxygen tanks now, we've got a criminal that's been blowing things up by igniting gasses." I almost laughed at the casual way he said it. You'd think it would be the most excitement these people ever got.

"So I'd suggest you start taking a calcium channel blocker, Verapamil, as a prophylactic. Works really well for the other guy, and it's pretty safe. Ever used sumatriptan?"

"Don't remember what I've used."

"It's abortive, you'd be using it subcutaneously. It's prescription, though, I'll have to write up a file." Write up a file? That didn't sound good.

"Excuse me, Dr. Blackwell, but isn't there something over-the-counter we could use instead?" Oh, this wasn't suspicious sounding at all. The doctor gave me a funny look. Riley was shaking his head.

"There's nothing that would help Ryan that isn't prescription, not that I've heard of. Is there going to be a problem?" I floundered in words. Could I pull off a fake identity for him? Well, too late to avert suspicion, the doctor was giving me another look, which I read clearly as, 'what the hell is going on here'.

"I can tell something's not quite right here," he muttered, proving my mind-reading skills as mostly accurate. Thoughtfulness clouded his face for a moment.

"Fasjovik is a very Swedish surname, my friend." I glanced at Riley's total lack of blonde hair. How did he know that?

"Well it's not like he's 100 Swedish. His mother was Irish," I said, which was possibly the stupidest thing I'd said to date. I didn't need to do any deep analysis to know that the doctor's glance at Riley didn't reveal any pale, freckled skin or orange hair either.

"Aside from the fact that you're obviously not telling me his real name, you don't seem to want a prescription. That makes me a bit suspicious, and I'm sure you understand why." He stopped talking and stared at me. It was no longer a suspicious stare. It wasn't a hateful stare. It was a waiting stare. He was simply waiting to see what I was going to say, and from the looks of it he was prepared to wait all day.

"We're not criminals," I said, stating the first thing I wanted to assure him of. He nodded, waiting for more. As if he expected the whole story of our lives and what we were doing to spill out of my mouth. I can't say I wasn't tempted to do so; something about the man made me want to tell him everything. Something about the situation made me want to grab Riley and run out the door. But there was something that could help Riley, we'd been told. The headaches could stop. But how to go about it? Stealing the medication wouldn't be smart, we didn't want to bring the cops down on us and attract attention. Having a medical file made up for Riley Poole, for surely he would no longer accept any name but the real one, wasn't going to happen either.

Dr. Garrison Blackwell stared at me patiently. His kind brown eyes stared out from wrinkled skin and he could be trusted. I don't know why I knew that but I did. I'd never experienced anything like that before, looking at anyone and knowing something about them so surely. He was waiting for an answer and he knew I was going to tell him something.

"Well, Dr. Blackwell, I'm pretty much putting our lives in your hands now." He nodded, amusement in his eyes.

"As a doctor, I'm used to that." He leaned forward, stopping me from continuing. "Just let me know why I should figure out how to justify non-prescription Verapamil and sumatriptan." I stared at him. I can see me trusting him unconditionally, because, well, I knew I could. But here he was trusting me to tell him the truth and basically saying he'd be willing to get what we wanted if we could give him a reason to justify doing that.

"First of all, my very good friend Dr. Blackwell… as far as you can work with safely, you never met anyone that looks like me or him, and we didn't lie to you about his name. Neither did we protest the prospect of getting a prescription because we didn't want his name on file." What to tell him…

"Ok… again, we're not criminals. But we are quite possibly being chased. If we're caught, we're probably going to get killed. This is a top-secret chase, one in which no-one else should be involved with. And me and him are… investigating something of grave importance. We can't be found. If we're found, we die. If a record is filed-"

"Your whereabouts can't be known because the bad guys will come track you down and prevent you from saving the world." A pause.

"Well, yes. That's the gist of it. Can you find it in your heart to believe it?" He smiled and I knew he believed it. What the heck, this guy wore his thoughts on his face.

"I'm going to take some medications out of storage in advance in the name of the other man with headaches. I'm going to take out two weeks worth and tell the man I'm giving him two weeks worth, and when he comes back in a week wondering why he's run out already, I'm going to tell him he's lost an entire weeks worth of prescription and he should be more careful. So your friend only has a weeks worth of drugs, I hope you can move along to somewhere else and find another supply." He stood up. Riley and I stared after him as he went behind the front desk and started scribbling on a slip of paper. I got out my wallet and started rummaging around, wondering how in the heck I could ever repay the man. I looked up in time to see Riley attack him with a hug, the relief on his face quite evident.

"I love you," he told Dr. Blackwell. I'd only ever seen him show that much affection to his car. And a certain bluish-green man with a strange looking goatee. Dr. Blackwell gave a merry laugh and patted Riley on the shoulder.

"I'm glad that headache is gone."

I tried to make him take payment for his trouble but he wouldn't let us. I mean, I really tried, as we should have at least paid for the medication, and I told him so, but to no avail. Our luck was running high, and I hoped it wasn't running out any time soon. Unfortunately it kind of did. He gave Riley an apologetic look before breaking the news.

"I can't get into the drug store until tomorrow – it's closed today. I can get it to you by eight o'clock tomorrow morning." Riley's face fell. I sympathized. He'd been looking forward to a headache-free week, and now knew he needed to get through a few more headaches before that was even possible. Me and the doctor simultaneously reached to put our hands on his shoulder, and fortunately they were different shoulders, or it would have been particularly awkward. The doctor at least had some reassuring words for him.

"You stay here overnight and use the oxygen. I can set you up in a room in the back, no-one else will be here tonight. Might want to move the car out of the parking lot, though, someone might wonder. We don't get that many serious cases, and when we do, everyone wants to know about it." I nodded. Riley was looking up at the man in awe. I was beyond awe. I could ask myself why this man was being so nice to us, and why I found it so easy to trust him, but both questions would probably go unanswered.

"I'll go park the car in the hotel lot, then."

"Ryan, you go with your friend," said Dr. Blackwell, "Probably do you some good to get some oxygen to your brain on the walk back. I'll set up a room." He turned and walked down the hall. If it were anyone else they'd be headed to the phone to call the cops on two weirdoes who showed up looking for drugs and hiding their identity.

"Dr. Blackwell," I called after him. He turned.

"Thank you." His answer was a smile. We headed out the door. The drive to the hotel was silent, as was the first quarter-mile back to the clinic. The night air was crisp and cold and the sun was setting rapidly, stars beginning to emerge high in the Eastern sky. It was amazing how many stars you could see out in the desert, I'd noticed nights before. When it was completely dark out there was no light pollution or smog, and the stars were brighter than I'd ever seen in my life.

"So, Ben, why are we being followed by ninjas?" His abrupt and matter-of-fact way of asking it made me glance behind us. No-one was following us.

"What?"

"I mean, are you ever going to tell me what's going on? Why we're out here and why it's so important to hide our identities? Who's searching for us?" I realized he had no idea how important it was that our identities remained secret. He would protect his, out of common sense, and because I had told him to, but he still had no idea why. He didn't know why I was making it so hard for him to get prescription medications. I looked around. No-one was out; for all intents and purposes, the little town was dead. The sidewalk we occupied was far away from any buildings. Everything was placed back away from the road. The wind was rustling the scrubby tree branches and making somewhat of a racket in the dry grass of the unkempt yards. We were about two miles from the clinic. May as well tell him now.

"Well, Riley, the president and myself had a little chat a few weeks back." I tried to make it as apparent as possible to anyone who may be watching that we were actually talking about something boring, like the weather or an upcoming family reunion. Riley did his best to look disinterested at my mention of a private meeting with the president.

"We were officially talking about the night of his birthday. You know, delving deeper into the map I'd shown him, maybe a little bit about property rights of the tunnels. He was actually telling me about a conversation he had had with one of his men, someone in security. Apparently…" I paused, wondering how to tell him. It was complicated. He looked at me expectantly.

"There's a very secret organization out there. No-one knows about it. _Knew_ about it, until this security guy managed to tip the president off. The security guard was part of the organization but changed his mind about what he was getting into and so… told the president of the United States." Riley's eyes widened. I had been in his shoes weeks ago.

"He couldn't tell the president that much about the organization. Apparently he wasn't in the well-informed circles of the group. But he warned the president not to tell the CIA, FBI, NSA, any group of people that would make a big noisy fuss over a secret and very dangerous organization."

"Yeah, those secret services type sure are noisy. I can totally tell when they're tapping my phone line, it sounds like a party on the other end."

"This dangerous group is everywhere. There are _members _in the secret services. There are hacker members. If anyone is told anything, they'll know."

"And so? What if someone _is _alerted?"

"Then they set their ultimate plan into action." Riley smiled a bit.

"Their ultimate plan. Haha. Let me guess, they plan to overthrow the government, take over the world using terror and chaos, and laugh maniacally as they sit upon the backs of all the good innocents that would be betrampled by their regime." I sensed a bitter sort of humor within myself. If only it were like that. Riley looked up at me and I must not have been smiling.

"Was that seriously it?"

"No, no it wasn't. I believe their ultimate plan involves the death of the population of the United States." There wasn't much of a reaction from Riley. We walked in silence for a minute.

"Isn't that, like, impossible?"

"I don't think so. From what the guy told the president, this group isn't quite prepared to unleash whatever it is that they think will wipe everyone out, but if need be they can set it into action and do some pretty serious damage. In the meantime they've been doing a lot of experiments and long-term work."

"What the heck does that mean?"

"I'm not entirely sure. I think it has something to do with mass-distribution of certain products. They've somehow been adding weird substances to much-used products in America, which results in heightened disease and death rates. They're being really sneaky about it, though, and no-one's traced these death rates back to the products the victims use. It's been so well-covered it doesn't look suspicious."

"Example?"

"Don't have one yet, I'm just repeating what the president told me."

"So do we even know who's behind everything?"

"The security guard didn't say, but me and the president strongly suspect it has something to do with foreign affairs. Maybe terrorist groups from Afghanistan, Iraq, Columbia, Honduras, all of the above, none of the above, a combination of the above. Maybe some huge international terrorism complex." A light blinked on in the house across the street from us. A bird screeched piercingly a few blocks down.

"Holy lord, Ben, this is huge." Riley sounded far from delighted.

"So, pretty much we have to find a way to stop this from happening, or we're all gonna die, kinda?"

"Exactly. As far as we can tell so far."

"And I just about guaranteed us certain death."

"No, Riley, you didn't. Look, we're fine. No records, no names, no identity revealed. No harm done." We walked in silence for a few blocks. Riley's face wasn't like Dr. Blackwell's. It was hard to read, especially in the darkening shadows. I suspected he was feeling a certain amount of guilt and helplessness. I wondered what would have happened had we found a different doctor. Not just anyone would have done this for Riley. Our luck had been impeccable. It would have been so easy for a different doctor to have called the authorities on us, incredibly easy for a different doctor to deny Riley a prescription without a file. What if? Would I have allowed a file to have been created? Would I have tried to come up with a plot to steal the medication? Or a tank of oxygen? Risk the suspicion of local authorities? Or would I have walked away, Riley in tow? I honestly couldn't tell myself what I would have done, and that bothered me deeply. I liked to think I would have gotten him the medication somehow, but I couldn't truly believe myself. I tried to stop thinking about that but it lurked in my mind. Earlier I had thought that I could put Riley before my, our, mission. When I hadn't been certain that our identity would have been revealed. But in the face of a situation where it was either end Riley's suffering but possibly reveal our location and identity versus suffer the Riley but remain undercover… when millions of people's lives are at stake, no risks could be taken. I couldn't have assumed that no-one would get a hold of a record we may have created, that would have been a terrible risk. Like Riley had said, it was up to us to save the United States.

I felt cold. I had just told myself that, under the circumstances, I would have denied Riley relief from extreme pain in order to protect our mission, in order to protect the people. It made sense to me. What was the pain of one person next to the death of millions? I hated that. I needed to know that though. If I was doing what I was doing, I needed to know that.

I glanced over at him and his saddened face and felt even worse. My best friend, long-time buddy. He had relied on me so many times. He trusted me so unconditionally. He had helped me out of countless holes. It wasn't fair that I had to know where to place him, and the level he was at wasn't at the top. It wasn't fair he was the best hacker I'd ever encountered and he was one of the smartest people I'd ever met. It wasn't fair I cared so much about him but had to drag him into something like this.

Suddenly the night didn't seem so peaceful. It darkened with my mood and a terrible sense of dread settled in my gut. There would be danger, I was sure of it. This mission was just so that it wasn't possible to accomplish anything without certain peril. What was going to happen? I prayed nothing would happen that would end in me loosing Riley for the rest of the population of the United States. The population, who had no idea what was going on. Who were out there gambling and watching TV and being unfriendly to their neighbors and having family feuds over last year's fruitcake. I felt a wave of bittersweet affection for him. I didn't care about the rest of the population I had to put before him. And yet there the entire population of the United States was. Sitting on my shoulders.

**A shorter chapter, and kind of a boring one. Well, I had to do the explaining sometime, I suppose. And all the explaining isn't even done… oh no…what's really happening is much more interesting than Ben realizes. But there should be some action coming up pretty quick. Hope I didn't get too philosophical and boring near the end there, couldn't help myself. Thanks for reading! Bork.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Time for something to happen.**

**forgetmaine – I'm glad you found my story worthy of the paper you printed them on. Wasting paper, boooo. Hey, 'super' is an excellent word. It could stand getting more use!**

**I'm glad people liked Dr. Blackwell – I have him completely in my head but I had no idea if I was typing him out satisfactorily. So thanks for that feedback, those who reviewed about him! **

**Disclaimer: Ben and Riley weren't my idea. **

On the way back to the clinic we stopped at the gas station, about the only building still open at that hour, and bought some sustenance. The little packaged sandwiches looked suspiciously fresh for being where they were. By the time we arrived back at the clinic it was dark out. There was a waning quarter moon hanging low in the sky, quickly becoming obscured by some ominous looking clouds that were forming into what looked suspiciously like an anvil. Maybe there would be a storm tonight.

Dr. Blackwell was waiting behind the desk when we entered, reading a '_Field & Stream'_ magazine. He stood up with a slight smile.

"Your quarters are just down the hall. Two old squeaky cots."

"Fantastic," Riley muttered, not sounding ungrateful in the least. We followed him down. We entered a room without windows or furniture, save for two cots. A tank of oxygen stood at one end of the cot on the left. Dr. Blackwell went to stand next to it.

"Ryan, I assume you know how to use these things. But just in case anything happens, I'm going to tell your friend here how to work it." He turned to me and it occurred to me that if I wanted to show any kind of gratefulness I'd at least give him a proper noun to use on me rather than a pronoun.

"Call me Dan." I still wasn't going to tell him my real name, just in case.

"Alright Dan, have you ever used an oxygen tank before?"

"No sir."

"Quick lowdown, then. I just replaced the humidifier so that shouldn't be a problem, but if you should need to put in more water, which you shouldn't, here's the distilled water, don't use tap. Just put it in here, up to two inches. Everything's all hooked up, pressure gauge is where it should be. When you turn it on, use this little doohickey here, remember righty-tighty, lefty-loosey, turn it 'till the pressure gauge moves a little, like this," he said, turning the knob. He switched it off again. "Set the flow meter to six and a half, don't go over." He turned to Riley.

"Remember, no more than 20 minutes. If 20 minutes of oxygen doesn't work, try to ride it out, I don't want to give you any more of that painkiller. Potent stuff."

"Gotcha, doc."

"I'm locking you in, don't answer for anybody. I'll be back around 6:30 tomorrow. Better leave you two to sleep now, imagine you're both tired. I've got a wife and some bean soup waiting for me at home. Anything emergency-like happens, call my number," he said, handing me his card.

"Thank you, Dr. Blackwell, thanks a lot. You have a nice night." He nodded, not dumb enough to wish us a nice night as well.

"Good luck," were his chosen words. Smart guy. He left.

"Well, Ben," sighed Riley "I believe it's sandwich time." I nodded in agreement. Upon wrestling the saran wrap off of our sandwiches it became quite apparent that they were not, in fact, fresh, but had been instead frozen almost solid, eliminating the soggy factor. Now they were melting and various juices were soaking the bread, making it look disgusting and rendering it very hard to consume. Worse yet were the half-frozen tomatoes. If you've never eaten half-frozen tomatoes consider yourself blessed and should you ever come across the opportunity to try a frozen tomato, take my advice and run away quickly. I love fresh tomatoes, but these frozen ones completely ruined my sandwich. Frozen tomatoes along with apparently green turkey cuts canceled Riley's appetite. I briefly envied the doctor's bean soup.

I looked at my watch to announce that it was late and we should get some sleep, but my watch said 7:30, which wasn't late at all. I sat on my cot and stared at Riley, who was glaring forlornly at his sandwich.

"So," I said. Perhaps now would be a good time for some answers from him. He looked at me.

"How long have you had cluster headaches?" He signed, resigned. I knew he didn't really want to talk about it but I knew he knew he couldn't escape talking about it. I kind of felt he owed me some answers, and he probably knew that.

"Since I was sixteen. They usually start around 20 years but I'm special," he said with a touch of sarcasm. "Exactly one year ago I was supposed to be having a period of headaches but they never came, and I assumed they were gone for good." He wasn't doing anything to hide his feelings this time and I could see how miserable he felt.

"Guess I was wrong." I knew if Abigail were here she'd be over sitting next to him giving him a big hug.

"Riley…" I started, wanting to tell him how bad I felt for him and how sorry I was for dragging him into this and how delicate the whole situation had to be. Sorry for what might occur in the future. Nothing came out of my mouth.

Thunder rolled in the distance. It rolled for quite a while.

"It averages one inch of rain in October around here," said Riley. Upon seeing the funny look I gave him, he continued, "I looked it up before we came out here. I'm not that much of a genius. Wonder if it'll all going to come down tonight." He lay back in the cot but didn't close his eyes. The floor seemed to vibrate gently with the next roll of thunder. I stood.

"Can I borrow your computer?" He half sat up.

"What? Why?"

"Just want to look some stuff up. Promise I have no idea how to hack into any of your personalized documents." He lay back down.

"Ok, whatever."

I went into the corner where he'd dumped his computer upon entering. Truth was I just didn't want to fall asleep tonight. My nerves were on edge and sleep was the last thing I wanted to do. And I did have some research I should do. I turned on the computer and turned off the lights. Riley should at least be getting some sleep.

"So, Ben." Apparently sleep was not to be.

"Yes, Riley."

"Seriously, do jackalopes exist?" I had to stare.

"Riley, have you never heard of jackalopes before? They dwell in the land of dragons and unicorns. I thought you knew a lot about this area." I smiled as Riley's homepage tabs showed up. His search engine was 'LookPink'. I clicked it and typed 'cluster headaches' into the blank.

"Well somehow my ears have never encountered the word before." I didn't reply for a moment as I brought up a page of information on the headaches.

"Where do you think the myth originated?" Riley asked. Clearly he wasn't ready for sleep yet. Maybe he was afraid to. I humored him for the time being.

"I believe… there's a disease that rabbits get that causes weird tumors to grow on their heads. It's suspected that that's where it originated."

"How do you know that?" I didn't really hear him. The page I was looking at was listing off different names for cluster headaches, and one of them was 'suicide headaches'. Good grief.

"Ben?"

"What?"

"I said how did you know that? That's like the most random thing ever."

"Oh. I took a biology class in college that was taught by a lagomorphologist. He was always talking about rabbits. He liked to ramble about jackalopes." _Cluster headaches are not physically life-threatening._ _Pain strikes quickly and without warning. Usually attacks one side of the head. The pain is often described as having a red-hot poker pushed into the eye socket._ I grimaced.

"What?"

"What?"

"What are you looking at?"

"Um, the weather. Looks like we're in for a heck of a night." I almost felt bad lying, but really it was no big deal. I hoped I was right. I opened another tab and found the weather page for Henrytown, Utah. As if on cue I heard the faintest of patterings on the roof. It had started raining. True to my prediction, the weather page warned of moderate to severe thunderstorms and one to two inches of rain. I relayed this information over to Riley, who whistled.

"Wow, what a dump. This happened to me once when I was over in Moab in the spring. I think we had a year's worth of precipitation in like two days, during a blizzard."

"A blizzard in the desert?"

"Yeah, it was really cool."

"I'll bet…" _People with cluster headaches usually prefer to pace or rock back and forth instead of lying down during the attack._ That didn't describe Riley very well, but that could be because for one of the attacks pacing hadn't been an option. _Some victims prefer to be alone during an attack. Some may scream, bang their head against a wall, or hurt themselves in other ways to distract themselves from the pain._ Well if they were going to hurt themselves further I didn't see the point in leaving them alone.

"Ow." I closed the computer and got off the cot, turned on the light. Riley was fumbling with the doohickey on the oxygen tank and already had the mask to his face. Suddenly his hand recoiled as if it had been slapped, flew to his head. I rushed over to the oxygen tank and luckily remembered how to work it - within seconds it was all set up and I was quite certain that the headache would be aborted right then and there. Unfortunately I was erroneous in that assumption. Within three minutes Riley was no longer using his hands to hold the mask on – they had assumed their positions on his forehead and his right temple. I sat next to him and tried to hold him still as I held the mask in place. This attack seemed more violent than the first two and he didn't seem content to lie down and take it. A few times he looked as if he tried to get up but I held him down, my non-occupied hand on his far shoulder. He settled for rocking back and forth in the end. It seemed to me that every muscle in his body was taught and I hoped this wouldn't result in debilitating soreness.

After ten torturous minutes, his state seemed to finally improve. He stopped rocking and his posture relaxed slowly and once again he ended up leaning his slumped body into mine. I could feel his heart beating through my arm on his back and the heart rate, which had gotten almost alarmingly high during the attack, slowed down.

"Done with the oxygen?" I asked him. I perceived a slight nod, and so removed the mask.

"Was that how that was supposed to work?" I couldn't believe that was how it should work. Riley, however, nodded again. So instead of an hour long attack, he'd just have to endure ten minutes of hell. Great. I sorely hoped the prescriptions were a bit more effective, and I didn't doubt Riley did too.

"Want to sleep now?" He nodded again but made no move. We sat in silence for a time and I listened to the rain now coming down in what sounded like torrents, the thunder becoming more violent. I wanted to feel safe in this windowless room. Locked in a clinic where no-one would be coming until morning, in the middle of a desert in nowhere, Utah. No-one would find us here. And yet, there was still that nagging dread. What if someone did? There would come a point in this procedure where we'd get far enough along and someone would be alerted as to what we were doing. What then?

Riley's breathing was deep and slow now. I suspected he was sleeping. I wondered how safe he felt. Probably not very safe from the headaches but at least he knew he had a few hours of peace. I betted he was feeling some of the safety and security I wished I was feeling, all warm and in the care of someone he thought he knew he could trust.

No, he could trust me. In any situation he'd be where he needed someone to trust, I'd be there. My reasoning behind this was that he'd understand if I had to make that terrible choice between him and the rest of the US. What would he do in my shoes? He would have to choose the rest of the US, anyone with a sense of what's right would do that. He would understand that the scales tipped him up. He would trust I knew what I was doing. Right?

I hated thinking about it. If we played our cards right, I'd never even have reason to think about it.

Riley jerked awake, startled by something in his own head. He looked a bit shocked at his position and gave me a fleeting apologetic look, and sat up.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't be. You ok now?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

"You should get some sleep."

"I know." He finally crawled under the bed covers and I went back to turn off the light. That being done, I picked up his computer again. Riley sighed.

"I don't think we should talk about jackalopes any more, Ben."

"Why not?"

"I always get a headache when we do." I reflected for a moment, and realized that yes, he did indeed. I smiled. And then I frowned.

"Riley, why didn't I ever know you got cluster headaches?"

"Being a clusterhead isn't something to be proud of."

"It isn't anything to be ashamed of either."

"Yeah, but… I just… didn't want to…" Clearly he was having trouble voicing his feelings.

"You didn't want us to worry." I clicked back to the link I'd been reading on cluster headaches.

"Pretty much, yes."

"Well you did a fantastic job of hiding it. I thought I knew everything about you." I skimmed over some paragraphs about circadian rhythms, sleep deprivation, depression, and suicide.

"Haha. There are many things you don't know about the mysterious and elusive Riley Poole."

"Oh really? Care to share?" _Attacks generally last from fifteen minutes to three hours._ I supposed Riley was one of the relatively lucky victims. Three hours was a long time.

"If I told you, I'd no longer be mysterious and elusive."

"Anything that could potentially come up without warning and throw a monkey wrench in the works?" There was a pause and I thought for a moment I'd offended him. I hadn't meant it to sound accusational. When he replied I realized he had actually been thinking seriously about the question.

"Well… I have mild chronic fatigue syndrome." I paused in my reading.

"You're kidding."

"Totally serious. Had it since I was fifteen." Chronic fatigue syndrome. Who knew. Riley Poole had chronic fatigue syndrome.

"Riley, are you playing? You'd be the last person I'd accuse of having that."

"For real, Ben. Don't tell me you never wonder what those pills I'm always popping are. Good old atomoxitine." Well, I had wondered about that periodically, but I always concluded it was his own business. I had never worried about it.

"You're not always popping pills."

"But you've seen me do it." I couldn't deny that.

"Well ok then, any more mysteries to be unveiled?"

"Nah, I have to maintain my mysterious aura if I'm ever going to attract women."

"Riley, shut up and go to bed."

"Beeeeeeeeen, I don't wanna." I shook my head, annoyed and bemused.

"You should. Tomorrow you're on hacking duty. If you screw up we're all doomed."

A particularly loud bolt of thunder shuddered through the room. I no longer wanted to read about cluster headaches. I knew all that I wanted to know about them, and some that I didn't want to know. Curiously and a bit guiltily I clicked on the 'favorites' button. The web sits looked mostly like they were in hacker language or other such electronic lingo that I'd never be able to understand. One of them, however, said 'FreeRice', and I ended up whiling away about half an hour there, convincing myself that I'd never have succeeded pursuing an English major like I had originally intended. I may have been mistaken but it seemed as if Riley had finally fallen asleep, which is, of course, an excellent cue for something else terrible to happen.

The clinic exploded.

The noise was loud. About what you'd expect from an exploding building. The whole clinic seemed to come off its foundation for a moment, within which my heart must have skipped at least once. The numbness in my mind lasted for only seconds but it seemed to me that my reaction was painfully slow. I slammed shut the computer screen and pretty much dove for Riley's bed, shook him awake. He was out of bed and very disoriented as I dragged him to the door. The wall over my cot was crumbling, as if in slow motion, and some terrible cracking noises were coming from the ceiling. Riley in one hand, computer in the other, I tried to push through the door. Not surprisingly, it was jammed. The ceiling was probably putting a lot of pressure on it.

"Ben, what's happening?" asked Riley as I aimed a kick at the door. I didn't reply. To my relief the door did what it was supposed to do in all the movies and collapsed outwards. I grabbed Riley and the computer once again.

"The oxygen?" he asked.

"Look at the fire, Riley, it would incinerate us. We have to get out of here." Indeed, flames were consuming the wreckage that had been the waiting room. The ceiling had collapsed and I could see a few chairs poking up from the debris. No more '_Field & Stream'_. The rain was still coming down but it didn't look like it was doing much to quell the flames. Smoke curled into the sky in thick plumes, infiltrating the air around us, making my eyes sting and water. I pondered trying to make it through the burning wreckage but decided against it. The back door was a better idea. Was there a back door? I had no idea.

"Come on," I said, pulling Riley down the hall. He didn't seem to understand the urgency of the situation quite yet, and I blamed it on having just woken up.

We'd made it halfway down the hall to where a promising looking 'exit' sign blinked and sputtered out while we watched when the ceiling let out an ear-splitting screech and chunks of plaster preemptively fell from above. I pulled Riley close and tried to shelter the computer as more businesslike clods of metal collapsed between us and the exit. Turn around. Flames licked from every decimated room we came to, no possibility of making it through and breaking a window. Only way out was through the waiting room, now a no-man's land.

"We have to go over this, come on," I said tersely, still towing Riley. I turned to face him as I felt resistance; hands to his head, pain and panic creased across his face.

"Dammit, Riley, not now!" I shouted. Why in hell's name did he have to have one right now, now when the building was collapsing around us, consumed by fire, smoke threatening to choke us?

Smoke.

I swore again, tried to keep a firm hold on the computer with one arm and a firm hold around Riley with the other. We weren't going to die here. We couldn't. I stepped into the pile of hot, sharp debris, and knew I wouldn't come out of this unscathed. Neither would Riley. Hopefully I wasn't going to drop the computer, because it was probably the only way we would ever solve this whole damn conspiracy.

I tried to pick my way as quickly as possible through that no-man's-land, but it seemed as if we were crawling. It didn't help that I had one arm to keep Riley from falling into the murderous stuff, all in all both arms occupied, leaving me with certain death should I loose my balance. Water kept getting in my eyes and made the footing slippery, but was probably the only reason I ended up getting out of that with all of my legs still attached. That whole episode was as close to hell I'd ever come to in my life, and as such my memory didn't keep much of what happened, but we made it across. I tripped onto the hot grass, dropping the computer and Riley, both of which clattered to the ground at my sides. I stood back up. We needed to get out of there.

I felt a vague pain in my lower legs as I once again occupied both arms. Get out before the police come. They couldn't find us. Getting Riley out of the smoke occurred second hand. He was choking and gasping and it looked as if he was sobbing but I couldn't really hear anything, as the rest of the building was actively collapsing behind us. I saw flashing red and blue lights lighting up the trees a few blocks away and I knew it was a matter of moments before we were being stopped and asked who we were, what were we doing there.

I sure wished I knew where Dr. Blackwell lived.

As I did not, I picked a friendly-looking little oasis of trees and shrubs to hide in, a block or two away, at the edge of town. Lucky the edge of town was so close to the heart of town. We stumbled towards it, splashing through accumulating puddles of dirty water, and I blamed the low population and the sheets of rain for the fact that we weren't seen as we smuggled ourselves into the shadows. I blew out a breath of air that I must have been holding. Maybe I thought someone would hear my breathing. I thanked whichever higher being would listen that it was a little drier under here. Computer in the muddy leaves. Riley in the dirt. Me… at least I was sitting against a tree.

"Riley?"

Riley coughed. I rolled him onto his back. If he'd been crying he'd stopped it. His eyes were half-closed and they weren't really focused on anything. Hands lay limp at his sides. Maybe the headache was over. Maybe he'd be alright. Maybe a piece of ceiling had hit him on the head and given him a concussion.

"Riley, are you there?" He sounded as if he tried to say something but nothing comprehensible came out.

"Riley? Riley! What kind of trees are these?" His eyes, to my amazement, seemed to focus up past my shoulder where the golden leaves fluttered in the suddenly ashy breeze. I thought for a moment he'd tell me their identity, I thought maybe he still had some strand of consciousness. He let out a deep breath and I realized they weren't focused on anything here on earth anymore. The gaze was too distant.

Helplessness. I had sure been in some tight fixes in my life before but always I'd been able to come up with an escape plan. A solution. I'd known something they didn't. Who knew I'd meet my match out here where nothing ever happened. _Here we go,_ I thought. I didn't know if Riley was dying but he sure wasn't acting very lively. If I dragged us out to the police I knew they'd have at least a mobile unit on hand, an ambulance that would be able to help Riley. Try to help Riley. Riley Poole, as they would know, because I'd be forced to give them his name.

I looked back down at Riley and another kind of helplessness washed over me. My best friend. Wasn't this the way people looked before they died? _No._ It must be. Yes. _No._ I had to help him. _You can't._ The only mission I had was to save him. _Think of the people._ I didn't care about the people. Riley was dying. _Didn't you say yourself you'd put the lives of the United States before the life of Riley?_ No. Yes. I didn't care anymore about the US and any conspiracy. I owed it to him, the way I'd shouted at him back in the collapsing building. _You can't afford to save him._ I'd shouted at him. As if it was his fault. _Nobody's fault. It's the way things have to be._ But things didn't need to be like this. He didn't have to die. _If you save him, you have the rest of the country to answer to._

"Stop!" my own voice shocked me and shut the voices in my head up.

"It's not black and white," I told myself. Clinging to a splinter of hope. Maybe things would be ok. I _could _not let Riley lay there. I had to do something. Seeing only hopeful shades of grey, I stepped out of the shelter of the unknown trees. A voice behind me.

"Dan?"

**Wooo… something happened…**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey, all you cool people who actually read this part – what does 'life' mean in the story list? It's counting down from 60 days and it's making me nervous – what happens at day 0? A lightning bolt strikes my computer and melts my hard-drive?**

**Raven1994 and everyone else who commented on how fast I'm updating – Yeah, I'm trying to cram in as much typing as possible before classes start. Which is tomorrow. I was going to try to upload **_**another **_**chapter yesterday, but alas my friend came along and we ended up having an X-Files marathon instead. **

**Durithyll – Yes, I'm trying to research at least a little about what I'm writing. There's a level of complexity I don't enter into and that's a pretty low level, but typing random and totally made-up facts doesn't sit well with me. I like to have my facts at least grounded in some level of truth. **

**ellina HOPE – Haha, thanks for the reminder that Abi still exists. I suppose if I wanted to be realistic he'd be calling her. Or at least thinking about her! Wow. Yeah, I laughed at your romantic description. I just can't seem to pull that kind of thing off! YES, I meant to write '**_**and**_** white', thanks so much for the pointer! I'll fix that. And finally, there's a reason I gave him mild chronic fatigue syndrome, as you will see in the following chapters.**

**Thuraya Known – Well then, I AM proud I made you want to hug Ben! I'm not that much of a Ben fan myself. As for Riley… like I told ellina HOPE, there IS a reason he's got CFS and clusters, revealed in the following chapters. And wow, you are so perceptive! I'm impressed with how much you notice and are able to see into the characters! Oh, and thanks for the long review, you're right, we love those!**

**RainaJames – Thankfully I've got one homework-free day left before classes start and I'm officially guaranteed to have no more nights I can type guilt-free. Which isn't to say I won't be typing. I'm not so bad at procrastinating… oh, bad start to the semester…**

**Dark Duchess of the Underworld – A lot of the info is at least based in fact… it really depends on what you mean. For some of the things I just didn't understand the concrete facts, so I just BS'd my way through as gracefully as I could. I try to be as accurate as possible but I don't hurt my brain trying to understand complicated medical stuff! CFS is just what it sounds like – the victim is often tired and feeling general malaise. Wiki has a pretty good entry on it, if I'm remembering correctly.**

**Poole – Your review made me feel cool! I'm glad I have the ability to wrench a few tears from someone… Thanks!**

**Diiiiiiiisclamer: Our heroes aren't really our heroes… they're… well, I'm not entirely sure whose they are, but they aren't mine. And they probably aren't yours.**

Frankly I'd never been so glad to see a doctor in my life. Or anyone, for that matter. How had he found us? What was he doing walking around at this hour? Besides the fact that his clinic had just blown up.

"Blackwell! My God, I am _so_ glad you're here, what are you doing?"

"Dan, what's going on? What happened, where's Ryan?" Even in this weird situation, in the rain, the thunder, the shower of wet ash, he looked composed. Concern was plastered across his face but he somehow looked like he'd been in this situation a million times before.

"He's… you have to come see him. I don't know what happened." I led the doctor into the trees where Riley still lay. I watched in anxiety as Blackwell knelt next to Riley.

"Ryan, can you hear me?"

"His name is Riley." It popped out of my mouth faster than I could tell myself not to. Blackwell didn't miss a beat.

"Riley, can you hear me?" There was another incomprehensible mumble. Blackwell held open Riley's eyelids and peered into them. I wondered what he was looking at so I leaned over his shoulder and it seemed almost comical that Riley's pupils were drastically different sizes. It couldn't mean anything good though, and the way Blackwell looked up at me with a total lack of humor confirmed it.

"He has a concussion. Is it possible he got hit in the head?"

"Yes, quite." Blackwell turned back to Riley.

"What day is it, Riley?" Riley just looked confused.

"Blackwell?" he may have asked, although there really wasn't that much voice behind it. Blackwell nodded in encouragement.

"I am, I'm Blackwell. Can you tell me the day?"

"October…" His eyes screwed up in concentration before getting that weird distant look in them, and finally they shut altogether. The doctor stood up.

"We have to get him to my house. You mind carrying him? I have a bad back." I shook my head, and bent down to pick up the unconscious Riley, holding him in my arms at the request of the doctor, who didn't want any more blood rushing to his head via the fireman's carry. It made it a whole lot harder to follow the doctor, as anyone who has ever tried the two styles of carrying a body would know. Especially if their legs were beginning to register the injuries they'd just acquired by frolicking through a field of burning splinters of building material. But hey, I wasn't about to complain. At least I was still conscious.

My mind flew as I followed Blackwell to his house. First on my list of worries was a battle between Riley and being seen. My immediate attention was split between the two – I didn't know how serious concussions were, really. I knew they varied in dangerousness and there was no longer a clinic to treat him at. But I knew he was in the care of a very competent man. All I could do was follow Blackwell. As for being seen… well, the whole neighborhood of five or six houses was alive and awake, either peering through their windows or standing on their lawn, faces all lit up with the diminishing flares from the fire. A fire truck had arrived at the scene and was effectively dousing the building into muddy wreckage, far better than burning wreckage. Police cars – probably the only two in town – were parked nearby, lights flashing. The police themselves were most likely searching the town for the perpetrator. Each second that passed without our being seen amazed me. If we weren't a suspicious looking scene, I don't know what was. Where were the police?

And why the heck had the clinic blown up, anyways? I wanted to suspect the work of that crazy gas-lighting pyromaniac running around, but I got a nagging dread that the only reason the building had exploded was because we had been in it and someone besides Blackwell had known that. I hoped no-one was on our trail already.

I suddenly missed Abigail. I'd been trying not to think about her so far, not wanting to tempt myself to get her involved. Who knew what kind of alert calling her would set off? What if there was another Wilkinson running around with a copy of my cell? But I _missed _her. No offence to Riley but he never really offered much comfort when I needed it. Usually it was the other way around, and frankly, I was quite ready to be on the receiving end of some sympathy for once.

Dang nabbit, it wasn't fair. Riley gets headaches. Riley gets a concussion. Riley is unconscious. Riley barely knows what's going on. Everyone cares about Riley. Ben knows exactly what's going on. Ben has to balance two impossible weights. Ben has the entire country sitting on his shoulders. Ben has to carry Riley to Blackwell's house.

I mentally shanked myself. I hated myself when I wallowed in irrational self-pity. But wallowing in irrational self-pity felt really good at the moment, even though I knew I was being a jerk. It was better than thinking about everything else. Maybe I could be my own Abigail until I could get a hold of her. Even though Abi would sooner slap me across the face than tell me that life wasn't fair and faun over me, and I sure wasn't about to slap myself. Mostly because both my hands were full of Riley.

To the delight of all four of my aching limbs, Blackwell's house wasn't far, but that should have been no surprise, since this was, after all, Henrytown. It was a relatively small house, tiny by most standards, but well-kept. Even now in October their garden somehow looked tidy, lawn well-cared for. Having a lawn at all was pretty huge in this part of the state. As we neared the three steps up to the front door, I felt, rather than heard, Riley moan. I shifted him around a bit so I could see his face and the first thing I noticed was that his pupils were still different sizes. His right eye was tearing up all over the place, although it could have been the rain. He moaned more audibly this time and Blackwell glanced back at us briefly as he reached for the doorknob. Before his hand touched the knob the door flew open and I gasped.

"Laudes!" What the heck? Was she his wife?

"Oh ye gods, what the devil is going on? Come in, come in, you'll catch pneumonia!"

"Not what we're worried about right now," I muttered as I passed her by. Riley was starting to struggle in my arms and it was all I could do not to drop him flat on the ground. Blackwell led me into his living room and showed me where to deposit Riley, which I did so gratefully, almost dropping him halfway over as he jerked violently. The air in here was warm and I felt very tingly all of a sudden, something I blamed on the sudden change in temperature. Maybe the aftermath of a sudden extreme adrenaline rush.

I went back into the living room, legs starting to ache, and Blackwell was already crouched next to Riley, who looked like he was trying to get up. The doctor was wielding a syringe and looked like he was having trouble holding the desired patch of Riley still. He wasn't talking to Riley. What was even more alarming was that the doctor looked genuinely concerned. I limped over to them and tried my best to hold Riley still, or at least his arm, and succeeded for just long enough for Blackwell to stick him again. Riley's arm was very tense and it didn't surprise me when some of the liquid came squirting back out again, but it still made me feel a little queasy.

"Do you need to do that over?" I asked. Blackwell stood up. I remained by Riley's side, keeping him from getting up.

"No, I knew some was going to come back out so I added more to the dosage." What a genius. Riley's state was getting more alarming by the minute – he didn't seem to be conscious but he was trying to get up. Like a panicked sleepwalker. Except one eye was crying and sleepwalkers don't usually look like they're in intense pain.

"So what is that stuff, atomoxiwhatever? Abortive?"

"No, it's sumatriptan. Yes, abortive." He changed his gaze from Riley to me. Raised his eyebrow. I suddenly felt like a specimen in a test tube.

"Why did you say atomoxitine?" Why _had _I said atomoxiwhatever? I'd heard so many weird medical terms in the last day, they were all floating around in my head in no order whatsoever.

"Um… I've heard it used in the last day. Weren't you talking about it?"

"No, I don't see why I would have been. It's used for ADHD treatment, it's an antidepressant." Why had that come out of my mouth? Where had I heard that?

"Oh, I remember, Riley was telling me he takes that. But he told me it was for chronic fatigue syndrome. Said he's had it since he was fifteen."

"Atomoxitine…" The doctor started pacing slowly back and forth, looking very thoughtful.

"Well… atomoxitine _is _used to treat CFS. It just seems to me that… ADHD would be a little more probable than CFS, seeing how young he is, and his temperament… not that I know much about his normal temperament." He looked at me in question. I nodded.

"Well… not that I'm an expert, but Riley can be kind of restless and fidgety. And talkative. Seems to fit his temperament more than CFS." As if irritated by the fact that the doctor and I were doubting his word, Riley gave one more violent jerk, accompanied by a frustrated cry, and lay back in the bed. He curled slowly into a loose ball on his side, hands assuming their regular cluster headache position. He dissolved into quiet moans.

"Riley?" I asked, expecting no answer whatsoever.

"Where are we?" he asked. Blackwell lowered himself in front of Riley.

"You're at my house. You've got a mild concussion, so just try to take it easy, alright?" Riley blew out a breath and I could tell he was trying to loosen up a bit.

"Is the headache going away? I gave you some sumatriptan."

"Yeah, I think so…"

"Riley, Dan told me you told him that you've taken atomoxitine." Riley peered at the doctor through slitted eyes.

"Yeah, for CFS."

"Not ADHD?"

"No. Most definitely CFS. Hard to believe, huh?" The way he said it erased some of the doubt in my mind. I had been kind of sure Riley had lied, and had been wondering why he'd done that, but now I was fairly certain he was telling the truth. Why was that? I have no idea.

"Alright. That's not important. Do you have any of the atomoxitine with you right now?"

"No, it's all in my backpack in the car."

"Riley, have you ever had head trauma in the past? Say, before your headaches began?" Riley looked a bit confused at this point and I could tell he was trying to think. He looked much less pained now.

"Um, no. Nothing." The doctor sighed, sounding pensive. Looking thoughtful. Why did he care so much all of a sudden about Riley's medical past? He knew far too much already for what I would have preferred. What else was he going to ask for? I was starting to get a bit fidgety myself.

"Look, not that I don't think this is important, but the clinic just blew up and I'm kind of nervous as to why."

"Hello Dan, Ri." Laudes had just walked into the room, reminding me how surprised I was to see her.

"So," I asked them, "You two… live together?" Laudes spoke before Blackwell could open his mouth.

"Oh no, not usually. He's my brother-in-law. I do his gardening. Garrison, I just called the police. They say the clinic was destroyed with ANFO."

"What's ANFO?" Blackwell and I asked at the same time.

"An explosive. It's not anything a small-town criminal would be able to find. People don't just happen to have it lying around. It's serious stuff." Blackwell finished the thought.

"So… either our village criminal has upped his standards or it was someone else's doing."

"Well… Would you belive Georgia Finn's garage also just burned down? Like a few minutes before the clinic exploded. And they found evidence of gas tanks at the site."

"Sooooo, it was definitely a different guy with the ANFO?" I asked, hoping someone would offer some logical explanation as to why I was wrong. No-one answered.

"Dammit," said Riley, and I found myself agreeing. Someone knew where we were. They could even know we were here in this house. I hoped they hadn't stuck around to see if we had made it out of the clinic alive. I hoped they'd just driven away.

"You two are no longer safe in Henrytown," mused Blackwell in a very depressing way. He sighed. He thought. The front door flew open and everyone jumped. A young man came storming into the room and stopped suddenly when he saw everyone gathered in the living room.

"What were you doing outside, Jeremy, there're criminals running around left and right!" Laudes approached the young man. He had long black hair, definitely part of the family somehow. Or so I assumed. I caught Blackwell boring holes into my skull and the look he was giving me was either 'I hate you' or 'be careful' and I vouched for the latter, because, well, the first one wouldn't make any sense. Laudes introduced him.

"This is Jeremy, my son. Garrison's nephew. Jeremy, these are-"

"Daniel. That's Ryan," I told him, holding out my hand. He shook it, looking non too pleased to make our aquaintences.

"Garrison," said Laudes, looking a bit worried, "Will you go outside and ask them what's going on?"

"We know enough what's going on. Someone's trying to kill these two and we need to protect them." In the jumble of everything that had been happening I had forgotten to be concerned about what Laudes was hearing, let alone this shifty looking young man, who I thought Blackwell had 'told' me to be careful about. Why? I didn't know. Things were happening far too quickly for my tired mind to follow. I struggled to contain everything that had just happened, who we were to these people, what each person was supposed to know or not know.

"Garrison, please, go ask them who they think did that." Blackwell looked doubtful for a moment, before turning to Jeremy, who had been pretty much staring curiously at Riley nonstop since he arrived.

"Jeremy, you come with me, then."

"Why?"

"Don't ask questions, Jeremy, we don't have time. I need your help out there." Jeremy shook his head in a rebellious young mansort of way.

"No way, I was just out there. It's chaos. I'm staying in here. I haven't even eaten yet." Jeremy walked into the kitchen. I had an inane thought pop up through all the thoughts I was having about the uncomfortable situation; maybe we'd get some bean soup after all.

"Blackwell, can I talk to you outside?" He looked at me, still doubtful, but nodded and walked outside, me in tow. I heard Riley call after me weakly but I kept walking. He'd be fine in there with Laudes for a few minutes. Maybe they could discuss Laudes's garden. Once we shut the door Blackwell turned to me and started talking before I could start up.

"Don't tell Jeremy anything. I don't know what he would do about this, he's a jumpy one. I just don't trust him with what's going on." I already knew that but it wasn't very heartening to hear it from the doctor's mouth.

"What are we going to do?"

"I don't know, Ben. We're going to have to get out of here, and quick. I'm assuming that blast was meant to kill you, and if your chasers realize you're still alive, Henrytown isn't the place to be. I need to go pick up the prescriptions for Riley and we need to stop by your car to get the rest of your things. Then we're out of here."

"Where are we going?"

"The Hoodoos." It should have struck me that spending a few days at minimum out in the middle of the desert with nothing to eat or drink might just kill us, but at the time it sounded like a really great idea to me. Anything to get us away from this place. Blackwell looked as if he was about to leave.

"What about Laudes and Jeremy? Laudes might know too much for her to be safe."

"Jeremy won't want to come anyways, but if we have to bring Laudes… I trust her. I'll be back as soon as I can. Do you have your keys on you?" I dug in my pocket and handed them over. He took off down the sidewalk.

I really wanted to stand on the sidewalk and let despair and worry descend upon my head and possibly knock me out, but for some reason I turned back around and shut the door behind me. I walked into the living room and froze.

Face to face with the barrel of a gun.

**Ooooookay. So mostly I just wanted to post something today before my classes all start and I never have time again. Which is sort of sad because this is a transition chapter and seriously, nothing much happened. Besides a whole lot more unanswered questions. As if you couldn't tell. I really don't like this chapter. Hopefully the next one will be a bit more interesting. And this one is darned short, too. I hate writing short chapters. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Ok… so not many questions answered in this one… more raised, though. **

**Thuraya Known – Ack, I was going to go more into Riley's condition in this chapter, but nooo. Next one, though. Thanks for reminding me about Ben/Dan… that was a mistake but in the next chapter I'm going to pretend it wasn't. You're a good editor!**

**Raven1994 – Glad you didn't think it was short – you're right, it could have been shorter. Haha. Classes started today and look, I got another chapter out! I am such a terrible student. Gah.**

**The Randomist – Yikes, be careful. Although that's probably what I'd be doing too… surfin' the net, anything but homework! Glad you deem this worthy of a longer review!**

**Disclaimer: Do we really need one of these each chapter? I don't own these two…**

I really should have guessed. I really should have been more careful. And I really shouldn't have left the house for a minute. Although I'm not sure what I would have done. Just because Jeremy had left the room for a moment to get himself 'some bean soup' didn't mean I had automatically suspected that he was going for a gun. But there you have it; I had a gun in my face.

Apparently he'd just pulled it, too. Riley sat up from his horizontal position, looking shocked.

"Lay back down, Riley."

"Shuttup, Benjamin Gates." So Jeremy knew what was going on. Most likely was part of the whole secret organization that was supposed to be foreign. Jeremy wasn't very foreign. Laudes was hovering worriedly between Jeremy and Riley, looking concerned.

"Jeremy, don't shoot him." Jeremy's face screwed up in anger.

"Mom, this is Benjamin Gates. I've told you enough that you should know the only thing to do with these two is kill them. Just my luck they ended up _here._" What the hell? Everything that was swarming around in my mind was just getting tied into more knots. Was I supposed to know who this guy was? And whose side was Laudes on? Apparently Jeremy had let his mom in on what he was doing. Jeremy gestured with the gun for me to step further into the living room. I wondered why he didn't just shoot me.

"Jeremy, son, at least don't kill Riley." _What?_ Don't kill Riley?

"Mom, he's the one we're most worried about." After that statement a flash of panic flew across his face.

"Where's his computer?" He looked around wildly. I mentally cursed and praised myself. The computer was still laying in the clump of trees outside, forgotten. I hoped it had survived the rain and mud and everything else. Jeremy glared at Riley but kept the gun trained on me.

"Where's your computer?"

"I have no idea." Jeremy turned to me, looking furious.

"Where's his computer? Tell me or I'll kill you."

"Apparently you're going to kill me anyways."

"I'll kill Riley."

"Most definitely you're going to kill him anyways." What was I saying? Was I trying to distract him? I could do better than that. Although it's a little hard to pull genius out of a mind as muddled as mine was at the time. I was in the middle of the room; there was nothing in reach that could help me. Jeremy had a gun trained on me and he could very well kill me any second. Riley, too. Laudes was being no help whatsoever.

"Jeremy," she pleaded, "Riley could join us. He cares about this place. He reads Edward Abbey!" she finished, as if that solved everything. Jeremy glared at her and I half expected him to aim the gun at her now.

"If Abbey wasn't dead he'd be dying like everyone else will. Just because this guy reads about why the American system can go to hell doesn't mean he'll join us. Mom, he's helping Ben foil our plan. _You're _not even supposed to know about it, you're hardly in a position to start recruiting people. Besides, he already knows more than your average member. He probably knows more than _me._" His gaze turned back to me. Unlike what I would have expected, he looked pretty at ease pointing a gun at me. Didn't look nervous or twitchy. Kind of reminded me of his uncle. Blackwell. I wondered whose side _he _was on. I had to distract Jeremy. Anything for more time.

"How did you know where we were?" I asked, trying to sound defeated. It wasn't hard.

"Shuttup. Don't try to distract me."

"Why haven't you killed me yet?" Most likely the wrong thing to say, but no shots rang out. Not even a reply. Guess pointing a gun wasn't quite the same as firing one.

"What now, Jeremy?" I asked, prodding still further. Well, if Riley wasn't going to say anything dumb, someone had to. Riley was still lying down like I told him to, looking moderately sick. Looking around. To the side. To the table next to him. To the stone coaster on the table. I prayed he wouldn't do anything stupid. Laudes stepped towards her son.

"Jeremy-"

"Shuttup!"

"Jeremy, I just don't want-"

"This isn't about what you want, mom! You wouldn't understand!" Maybe I could get a distraction going now…

"Laudes," I pleaded, "Don't kill Riley. He doesn't know what I've gotten him into. It's not his fault he's here. You're right, he cares about this place." What did this place have to do with anything? I didn't know. Riley looked confused and Jeremy looked furious.

"Ben-"

"Jeremy, son, please. We don't have to kill them. Especially Riley, did you hear what Ben just said? Riley doesn't know. He can still-"

"No! Ben's lying! Just… just shuttup. Don't listen to him." I put on my desperate face.

"Laudes, please." She was torn, I could see it.

"Stop talking, Ben, or someone's going to get shot," said Jeremy, much venom in his voice.

"Someone's getting shot anyways, _Jeremy_."

"Son-"

_BANG._

Not exactly the same as being in an exploding building, but for some reason this was much scarier. Jeremy's gun was aiming at his mother.

Laudes was forced a step backward as the bullet ripped into her shoulder. She stared down at the hole in her shirt, the quickly spreading circle of dark blood. Returned her gaze to her son, now aiming the gun back at me. Why would he shoot his own mother but show hesitation when it came to shooting us? Laudes slowly sank to the ground, hand over the hole.

"Son?" she asked. So many things that could have followed that. Jeremy didn't look very sorry.

"If you have to ask me why I did that, then obviously you don't know as much as you think you do. You'd rather die a slow, miserable death? I'm doing you a favor here." The guy actually thought he was doing his mother a favor by shooting her.

"Jeremy," I asked, wondering what I was doing even bothering trying to ask.

"Why did you just shoot your mother?" The look on his face was mild surprise.

"Don't you know already?"

"No, actually, I have no idea why you'd do that, and frankly I don't think you could possibly come up with a plausible explanation." Jeremy was thinking, I could almost hear the gears turning in his head. Internal conflict or just really confused? Maybe both?

Sudden movement. Riley chucked the coaster at Jeremy's head. I hadn't even seen him pick it up. The coaster, to my surprise and delight, careened into Jeremy's left ear, making him jerk and swing the gun arm around wildly, and he could have shot Riley, he really could have. He had about one second before I lunged for him and tackled him to the ground, but he didn't use it to shoot Riley. He kept a firm grasp on the gun as we hit the ground, and I struggled for it, reaching, knees on his chest. He socked me across the face with his other fist and I saw stars for a moment, which he used to raise the gun and fire wildly, missing. Now he was serious and lucky for me he was also a bad aim up-close and in combat. I tried to knock his nose in but he shifted suddenly, and despite him being much smaller than me, he was magically behind me. He grabbed me around the torso, and using some kind of ninja move threw me to the ground quite violently. I lunged for his legs, bringing him down, also bringing his gun into a spectacular position to blow my brains out. He raised his arm and took aim and a hand came flying out of nowhere and knocked the gun from his hand. It went flying into a corner, like every gun invariably ends up in the movies after a power struggle.

Jeremy didn't really miss a beat, taking the additional attacker in his stride. He reached over and grabbed Riley's retreating hand, yanked it, Riley suddenly jerked to within two feet of Jeremy's face, severely off-balance. Something bad was about to happen but Jeremy kicked out at my own face, and as I felt the warm and unwelcome trickle of blood start up in my nose he reached out with his now gunless hand, grasped a handful of Riley's hair, and smashed his head into the ground with a force I wouldn't have thought possible. Riley didn't get up. _He's dead._ He couldn't be dead. Jeremy's foot connected with my ribs and I couldn't breathe. Footsteps running away. A door slamming. Not the front door. Jeremy had gone out the back.

My vision started to clear as I crawled to Riley's side and rolled him over, kind of expecting that his face would be smashed in. To my utter surprise I couldn't see any marks at all, and to my utter joy he wasn't unconscious.

"God dammit," he muttered, holding his head.

"Bless you and your thick skull, Riley." He was alive. Everything else seemed to be going wrong but he was alive, and that was enough to make me smile. I crawled over to Laudes. She had simply been watching us. Her eyes looked sad. Hand still pressed to the bullet wound, blood had drenched her shirt. Riley's voice behind me.

"Ben, the police are here." I could see flashing lights against the drawn curtains. We had to get out of here.

"Laudes-"

"Run, Ben."

"What's going on? Why did he shoot you?" Her face looked pained, and I suspected it wasn't all from her wound.

"I'm not supposed to know, but Jeremy's told me a lot of it…"

"A lot of what?" I felt bad pressing her. I knew she was in pain, tired, probably going into shock.

"He killed me to protect me." Somehow I doubted that.

"He didn't kill you, you should be fine."

"Ben!" Laudes's voice raised a pitch. She looked frantic. She continued.

"They really believe! They're fanatics! And they can do it! They have the money, the resources, the secrecy! I thought…" she stopped a second, voice hitching. "I thought they were right. That they were doing the right thing. I see it now, though, Ben, you and Riley have to stop them, you're the only two who know."

"Know what? How are we supposed to stop them?" She looked at me curiously.

"The only reason he didn't kill you was because he didn't know if you knew. If… if he knew that you truly knew… what was going on, he would have killed you. But…" she seemed to be having a bit of trouble thinking. "Your deaths… people know you, Ben. Your death would have brought on a lot of investigation. He didn't want to kill you if he didn't have to."

Knocking on the door, police voices demanding to be let in. There was something I wanted to know before we left, had to.

"Laudes, who are these people? Where are they from, what are they doing?" Kind of a broad topic, but every hint she gave us was precious.

"They're anyone who believes. They're from everywhere…here, there…" She seemed to be getting a little delirious. The knocking got harder, shouting got louder.

"Why do they want everyone in the US dead?" Laudes's eyes got wide and she stared at me.

"You don't… Ben, it's not just the US. It's everybody. It's…" her face creased in a grimace and when her eyes opened they had a familiar distant look about them.

"What are they doing, Laudes? What are they planning? Stay here! Stay with me! What are they doing?" The front door was knocked in and Riley and I were forced to our feet, but as I struggled through the pain in my torso, hoisted Riley upright, I thought I heard her say 'ghost dance'.

Together we popped out the door, Riley moving a lot faster than I would have expected, and certainly a lot faster than a concussion victim should be, and we were hit once again by the chill wind and rain. Where to go? No doubt the police would be trying to find the back door any second now, no doubt the entire town would be crawling with all the authorities they could muster. What a night. A garage and the clinic blown up, two gunshots, criminals running around everywhere… probably more excitement everyone in the town had ever seen in their lives combined.

We paused. I teetered on the brink of indecision. There was nowhere to go. Probably should be heading inconspicuously towards the drug store or the hotel parking lot, try to meet up with Blackwell, although I didn't even know what to think about Blackwell at this point. He hung out with the very people that were trying to kill us. Had he known that?

He had called me Ben.

It occurred to me just then, probably the world's slowest reaction time. How had he known? The only way he could have known was if Laudes or Jeremy had told him.

Speaking of Jeremy, he was running around out here somewhere too, and I didn't know if he had is gun. I'd forgotten to look for it when we left.

Riley fell over. Sudden blood rush to the head? Probably not the best thing to be doing to a concussion victim.

"Riley," I began, as I knelt by his side, "you can't do this now. We have to look normal if we have any chance of getting out of here. We're going for a walk. Come on, get up." The look on his face was pure misery.

"Ben, I can't… I can't see…"

"You don't have to see, you just have to walk." I pulled him to his feet and he managed to somehow not fall back over, although he looked like a moderate wind might be able to blow him over.

"Ben, where's my computer?" I cursed in my head. We kind of needed that. It was across the road, other side of Blackwell's house. Where all the police were. I started walking him away from the house, to the right. Through someone else's yard, not nearly as nice-looking as Blackwell's.

"Ben and Riley?" Another mysterious voice, this time from the little sparse forest of stunted trees behind Blackwell's house, and excellent place for someone like Jeremy to hide. But this was a woman's voice. I whirled around. Riley took his time turning. Before we could even see who she was or hear her say anything else, Riley opened his mouth.

"Wow, I am so done with surprises. Ben, after we get out of this, I think I'm finished with Christmas and fireworks and all those surprising things people are supposed to like."

"Shuttup," I said quietly. A figure was hurrying towards us out of the brush and rain. It was another old woman.

"Aren't we supposed to meet beautiful young babes when we go on adventures like this?" whined Riley. I shushed him, glad he still had enough wits to crack jokes, annoyed that he picked now to do that.

"Hello, I'm Mrs. Blackwell. I left with my husband when we heard the clinic explode, and he kind of disappeared on me… he texted me just a minute ago and told me to hide, and if I saw you two to help you?" Poor old woman. She looked more confused than I felt. I almost laughed when she told us her husband had texted her. Nothing could be more out of place than an old couple living in the middle of no-were texting each other with cells. I also almost laughed, thinking about an old woman crouched in the woods in the pouring rain for an hour. I don't know why I thought that was funny. The situation must have been wearing on me.

"Well," I said, deciding on the spot to trust her, because I no longer had any time to think, "We'd love some help but I don't really know how you can. We need to get his computer back, we need to find Blackwell, and we need to leave."

"Where's the computer?"

"In the middle of that little clod of trees across the street. In the mud."

"I'll get the computer. You two, meet at the intersection with lights. Garrison will be there to pick you up." She took off to get the computer, a little more sprightly than I would have imagined."

"Ok, you heard the woman, Riley, let's go. The intersection with lights."

"Do you think she'll make us some bean soup?"

"I'm sure she will. Come on," I said, and we walked up to the sidewalk. Certain capture and possible death awaited us, I was sure. There were police up there. There was a Jeremy somewhere. Even if the police weren't there, how could we possibly make it two blocks down without being seen? Riley was leaning on my arm for support and I walked with a pretty good limp, too. Something must have jabbed me pretty good in that burning wreckage. I had to look at that soon.

We got to the other side of the house and to my surprise, no-one was out there. Only one police car sat outside, and no-one was in it. I guessed any police that may have been around were in the house with Laudes. We started down the sidewalk. I had a slight buzzy feeling in my head and everything felt surreal. I felt like anything could happen at any time. And the only thing to do was not think, just get to the corner. What were the chances Blackwell would even be there? No, don't think. Walk. The semaphore was getting closer. Riley was leaning on me heavier with each step, and once he stumbled and I had to grab him around the middle to keep him upright. In a few steps he was walking himself again but it didn't look like he would last long.

There was a car ahead, coming towards us, and it wasn't a police car. I looked around for Mrs. Blackwell and saw her on the other side of the sidewalk, holding something square and muddy. Bless her. Although she did look alarmingly concerned as she watched the car getting nearer to us, approaching the presently red light with a bit too much speed than was necessary. She stepped off the sidewalk, into the yard to her right.

"Move, you two, that's not Garrison!"

"What?" Riley asked in annoyance, and I wondered what could possibly be happening right now. I, for one, had no idea. What, was the car going to hit us? Why, yes, it was. I heard Mrs. Blackwell shriek as it barreled towards us, high beams blaring in what would have been a very loud manor had they been making noise. I shoved Riley away, sincerely hoping he wouldn't end up under the wheel instead of over the hood with me. I jumped, rolled, over the car, off the back. It happened quickly, like the first time you do a wet exit in a kayak. Seems so scary, but really, it's not that bad.

I hit the ground with a hard bump, shoulder making a weird popping sound. Struggled upright. Unlike a wet exit in a kayak, I now had to worry about if my best friend had been run over. Luck was either being a bastard for trying to get us run over, or a lady for sending Riley far enough away to come out of that unhurt. He was looking towards me with the same concern that must have shown on my face, and once we both realized each other was alive, we looked back at the car, which was making its rapid way down the street. Ah, there was the second police car, also barreling through the red light, a high speed chase down the main drag of Henrytown. Another car approached from behind the police car, which whizzed by so fast that the flashing lights left streaks of green and orange across my vision.

"Get up, you two," yelled Mrs. Blackwell, who was running across the street. She reached Riley before I could, hauling him up by his arm, making a beeline for the car that was mercifully slowing down for us. I struggled upright, hobbled after them. Mrs. Blackwell had shoved Riley into the backseat, leapt into the front seat, slammed the door by the time I was even starting to get in, trying to push Riley over to the other side so I could sit. I shut the door and the car started moving, making it a bit difficult for me to shift my weight off of Riley, who I had been partially sitting on. I looked out the window and we were already on the outskirts of town. Blackwell no longer had his headlights on, and as we hurtled through the darkness I had the distinct impression we were on one of those old space shows, flying through the universe.

I can't tell you how good it felt for someone else to be driving. Driving anything. The car, the situation, deciding where we were going. I couldn't think anymore. I don't know why producers think they can make their movie heroes go tearing through complicated situations and always know what to do, what to think, how to save the day, and then come out of everything all heroic and ready for more. Our particular complicated situation had made good time in chewing us up and spitting us out and so far not letting any questions get answered. This was like a philosophy class I'd once taken. They'd told us the answers weren't important, it was the questions that mattered. And so throughout the semester the questions had just piled up and piled up and when the class was over I no longer had any idea what to think. I had just wanted to leave the thinking to someone else.

Could I afford to stop thinking now? No, probably not. Probably not until this whole thing was over. Meaning constant thinking until we either reigned triumphant over who knew what or who or how, or until we died. The second option almost seemed easier.

**So there you have your struggle-over-the-gun scene, your cheesy dying-character-who-tries-to-tell-our-hero-what's-going-on scene, and the car chase scene. All in one! Bork bork! And I know I've been kind of ignoring Riley a little… we'll definetly find out what's up with all his drugs and diseases next chapter, don't worry.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey, everybody, bork bork! Thanks again for all the support! In this chapter, they actually find some stuff out and the plot gets (hopefully) more interesting! I know there are a lot of people out there that like Riley angst, and I do to, but I really like plot, too, and they're not **_**always**_** one and the same. But there will be plenty of angst later. Trust me. Oh yes. **

**Supernaturalfreakisabookworm and ancientmaverick - I'm kind of confused with the plot, too… so for the sake of anyone else that may be confused, and for me, who needs to straighten out their thoughts…**

**RECAP TIME! If you don't need/want a recap… scroll waaayyy down…Sooo, borkbork, they're in the deserts of Utah, for reasons that don't really matter but may be mentioned later anyways. At the beginning of the story, Ben knew that there was a secret organization out somewhere and thought it may be foreign terrorist groups. What he thinks they're doing is trying to kill everyone in the US probably by biochemical means – sneaking weird substances in American products long-term. He doesn't know why they want the US to die. The president of the US was told this by a leak in the secret organization. The president was also told not to tell the secret services, because the secret services aren't so secret anymore – if the pres tried to find out via the secret service what was going on, and try to stop it, then the (what we will presently call the) bad guys will set their chaotic plot into action! What's the chaotic plot? We don't know yet! Well, I do, but you don't. Why will they set their chaotic plot into action if anyone non-bad guy knows? Because they've been working on it for quite a while, and they'd rather execute their unfinished plan, which would still do a lot of damage, than sit there and have their plot foiled. **

**So the pres told Ben because the pres trusts Ben and thinks that Ben can be sneaky and find out what's really up and possibly figure out a way to stop it. Uuuuunfortunately, Riley has a cluster headache, which is the start of all the fun. They meet Laudes at the rest stop on the way to Henrytown. They meet Blackwell at the clinic in Henrytown. Ben is freaked because Riley having headaches is conspicuous – e.g. what if he needs to be airlifted out/what if he needs a prescription, and that's the beginning of his struggle to find a balance between Riley and the US. Fortunately the doctor is awesome and doesn't make them make a file for Riley. Ben gets across to Blackwell that they're on a very important mission and can't be found by the bad guys, whoever they are. Blackwell lets them stay in the clinic overnight with the oxygen so Riley won't die of headaches before he gets the prescription in the morning. They have the right prescriptions there because there's another clusterhead running around in Henrytown. Important? Why, yes! Blackwell leaves. Riley tells Ben he has mild CFS, and takes atomoxitine for it.**

**Unfortunately the clinic blows up, and upon exiting Riley gets another headache from the smoke and, although Ben doesn't notice, gets hit on the head with a piece of ceiling. Ben is a hero and saves himself, Riley, and Riley's computer. They go hide in the bushes. Why? Because, firstly, Ben doesn't know if someone just blew up the clinic for fun, or if someone was trying to kill them. Secondly, because if the police saw them the police would want to question them, which would definitely get some conspicuous data online, where bad people could hack in and see it and then know where Ben and Riley are. Although Ben, at this point, isn't even sure anyone knows who/where they are or what they're doing. **

**Riley starts acting funny and eventually falls unconscious. Ben freaks out and has an intense internal struggle over whether to wait and see if Riley will be ok, or bring him to the ambulance, which sits just a block away (because of the explosion) and possibly save him, and also get his information on record, which is undesirable. **

**Fortunately Blackwell shows up (what was he doing out there? His clinic just exploded, he was checking it out), tells Ben that Riley has a concussion, and leads Ben and Riley to his house, where Laudes is waiting for them, because Laudes and Blackwell are sibling-in-laws. And Laudes does his gardening. Blackwell brings them there because he knows they can't go to the police **

**And this is where it gets a bit confusing… After Blackwell sticks Riley with some sumatriptan he conveniently had on hand and Riley's headache fades, Blackwell gets very thoughtful when he discovers that Riley's been taking atomoxitine since he was fifteen. Blackwell starts asking Riley apparently random medical questions, but before anything there can be solved, Laudes bursts in and tells everyone the clinic wasn't your everyday Henrytown explosion – the perpetrator used some pretty high-class explosives. **_**And**_** the Henrytown criminal that likes to blow things up with gas was somewhere else that night. AKA someone was trying to kill Ben and Riley, although she isn't supposed to know that yet. She's just supposed to think that their names are Dan and Ri. How does Laudes know all this stuff about what was happening? You think you know, but you really don't. Unless you're slightly perceptive. Guess you'll find out this chapter.**

**Then Laudes's son, Jeremy, pops in, being all emo and grumpity. Where has Jeremy been? Not at the town bar, folks. Blackwell doesn't seem to trust Jeremy. Laudes tells Blackwell to go ask the police who blew up the clinic. Now, according to what happens later, she already knew who blew up the clinic, and she was just trying to get rid of Blackwell, but Blackwell doesn't know that. He does want to leave, though, for reasons of his own, which he tells Ben, and wants to take Jeremy with him because he doesn't trust Jeremy in the same house with Ben and Riley, because Jeremy is just suspicious like that. Jeremy says no. Ben goes outside with Blackwell for a moment, Blackwell tells Ben where he's going, Ben says okedoke, then pops back in, and Jeremy is aiming a gun at him. **

**From what happens in the next few pages, we learn that; Jeremy is part of the secret organization! Is that a coincidence or what? Not really! Why? We don't know that yet either! Jeremy has told his mom some of what the organization is about, (none of which we know yet) and Laudes kind of thought it was a good idea, but she doesn't want Jeremy to kill them, especially Riley, because she thinks Riley can 'become one of them'. She kind of pesters Jeremy and Jeremy shoots her. Riley throws a coaster at Jeremy, Ben and Jeremy scuffle over the gun, a few blows are exchanged, the police arrive at the door (because of the gun shot that was probably reported by the neighbors) and Jeremy runs away via the backdoor. Ben talks to Laudes as she bleeds herself into shock and Laudes tells Ben that Jeremy shot her and not them because 'they were all going to die anyways', and it was kind of a favor. Jeremy was probably going to kill Ben/Riley, but then Ben hinted that he didn't know what was going on. Laudes tells him that the bad guys didn't want to kill Ben/Riley if it wasn't necessary because that would mean a big fuss over their deaths and huge investigations, because they're famous. Laudes infers that what's going to happen isn't going to affect just the US. Then she dramatically mumbles 'ghost dance' while the police barge in and Riley and Ben are forced to exit quickly, because they still don't want to get caught and questioned. **

**Ben has a small panic attack outside the house as he tries to decide where to go. Blackwell's wife prances conveniently out of the woods and tells them exactly what to do and that she'll rescue Riley's computer. Which she does. On the way to getting picked up at the intersection, Jeremy, now in his car, makes a last-ditch effort to kill them by running over them, but they evade that. Jeremy keeps driving because he's being chased by the other police car. Why did Jeremy try to kill them then when he didn't seem to want to in the house? Because Jeremy is one sad, confused little man. Ben no longer has any idea what's going on. We don't yet know why Laudes and Jeremy are in on it, how they knew who Ben and Riley are, and why Blackwell knew Ben's name.**

**And then they load into the car and drive happily into the sunrise. The END! So far. Sorry that was such a long recap but… whatever… Did I miss anything? Is anyone still confused? I'd be happy to make a pathetic attempt at clarifying anything anyone wants clarified. **

**Pretty sure none of the medical stuff in this one is correct in any way. I tried to link them together somehow but, really, if you were to go research this, these are some pretty loose ties.**

**And if anyone sees something wrong with my little history lesson, let me know.**

**And Ben and Riley aren't mine.**

"You called me Ben, Blackwell."

The sun was finally rising and the clouds were clearing rapidly. The thunderstorm was retreating, moving towards the mysterious snow-capped mountain. It was all lit up with blue and pink and light yellow and it was sure a sight for sore eyes.

"Benjamin Gates and Riley Poole?" he asked, without taking his eyes off the road in front of him. I was fairly certain we were going twenty miles over the speed limit. What now? Why did he know our names? Our _last _names? He really _was_ going to dump us in a ditch and shoot us, wasn't he? I worried that, even though, given the circumstances, that made no sense whatsoever.

"Well, yes, I can't really deny that anymore. How did you know?"

"You're famous, aren't you? Riley, you even wrote a book. I bought it when I was in Salt Lake City a few weeks ago. You don't really look like your picture so I didn't recognize you at first." I glanced at Riley, who looked rather pleased, despite not looking like his picture.

"When I left you at the clinic I had my suspicions, went on the internet and looked your picture up. There you were." I laughed at myself. I always forgot we were famous. The answer was so obvious.

"So you aren't going to dump us in a ditch and shoot us. Good."

"Are you kidding? After sacrificing my entire clinic and my career for you? Of course I'm just going to dump you in a ditch." I should have smiled but that reminded me of something else he'd sacrificed for us. And he didn't know it yet.

"Blackwell…" I began, as soberly as I could, maybe trying to prepare him.

"Jeremy shot Laudes back there. In the shoulder. She was going into shock when we left her." Blackwell didn't respond immediately. I wished he would. I almost expected him to suddenly crack and blow up in my face.

"Shots to the shoulder aren't usually deadly," he told himself quietly.

"I'm really sorry."

"Wasn't your fault."

"I'm really sorry about everything. You're going through so much trouble for us."

"What you're doing has to be more important than anything I've ever done."

"Well…" I wanted to deny that, on instinct, but I really couldn't. What was it Laudes had told me in those last few moments?

"Riley, I picked up your prescription," said Blackwell, tossing a little white paper bag into the back seat.

"You're a god," said Riley, opening the stapled bag.

"Riley, how are you feeling? You have a concussion and your head just got slammed into the ground," I reminded him.

"Yes, Ben, thank you, I remember that part vividly."

"Concussion must not be that bad," said Blackwell. I was still looking at Riley expectantly. He sighed, resigned.

"I have a mild headache, it's not a cluster, kind of feel nauseous, have a headache, my head hurts, I'm tired, I'm dizzy, and my head kind of hurts."

"Well, for a concussion, you sure are lucky, Mr. Poole. Seems as though you slipped through that one without any serious damage."

"I liked Riley better."

"Alright, Riley. Can you get the internet from here?"

"If my computer turns on, I can get something like the internet, yes." Mrs. Blackwell handed Riley's computer back to him and I watched him wipe the mud away and turn it on. Miraculously, it still worked. While it booted up I tried to remember any questions I wanted to ask Blackwell, tried to pull them out of the fuzzy last few hours.

"So Jeremy blew up the clinic, right?"

"Yes, I believe he did. I think Laudes didn't call the police, I think she called Jeremy."

"You don't seem too disturbed by the fact that your nephew and your sister-in-law are part of a very evil organization behind your back and are trying to kill us all," stated Riley. I wanted to ask the same thing but I just didn't have the guts at the moment. It could be a sensitive question. Leave it to Riley to deal with those.

"I've never been close to Jeremy. He's a mystery to me, and I always suspected he was up to no good. Didn't think he'd involve himself in something this big, but I'm not surprised. As for Laudes… she's overly fond of the boy." Boy? Jeremy had to be at least twenty-five years old. Although Riley wasn't that much younger and we still called him a kid sometimes. "She'd follow him to hell and back. I've never been too fond of her, either. I mean, sure, for a sister-in-law, she's great." He seemed like he wanted to continue but he stayed silent.

"Alright, doc, what do you want looked up?"

"Atomoxitine."

"What? Why?"

"The other clusterhead in Henrytown has ADHD." This was met with blank stares from the other three in the car.

"Aaaaaand so you think_ I _have ADHD?" Riley apparently didn't know how to connect the dots.

"No, he thinks cluster headaches are a side-effect of atomoxitine, right, Blackwell?"

"Not… really. Riley, it doesn't matter whether you have CFS or ADHD, but-"

"Now hold on!" cried Riley, sounding upset.

"Why don't you guys trust me when I say I have CFS? I know I seem a little too neurotic for that, and it's suspicious that I'm taking atomoxitine and everything, but obviously I'm not going to be chronically fatigued, because _I'm taking atomoxitine._ Why can't you guys just believe me? I can tell you anything you want to know about CFS and I won't know a thing about ADHD. Seriously, ask me anything."

"Riley, we're sorry, we believe you," said Blackwell, sounding a bit exasperated, "but it really doesn't matter. What matters is that you're taking atomoxitine. Do you know the contents of atomoxitine?"

"No," Riley replied miserably. I could tell he wasn't listening to the next few moments of what Blackwell was talking about, and neither was I, because as much as I'd been trying to follow all the medical stuff being thrown around, he was basically listing off the ingredients of atomoxitine, and I really didn't think I'd ever remember, or need to. Riley looked pretty upset, and I thought I understood why. No-one seemed to believe him about his medical history. That would sure annoy me. Knowing that my best friend didn't trust me enough to believe me when I said I had CFS, not ADHD. And I knew Riley would trust me if I told him my natural hair color was blonde. The guilt started settling into my stomach as I tuned back into what Blackwell was saying.

"So there's nothing in atomoxitine that would trigger a headache. Right?"

"Right," I replied, feeling like I was back in school.

"Not in normal atomoxitine anyways. Riley, I'm guessing you got your first atomoxitine at a QuinceDrug?" Riley's eyes screwed up, trying to remember.

"I don't remember that far back."

"But about eighteen months ago, you switched drug stores, right?"

"Well, yeah, it… what? How did you know?"

"And you got your newest prescription of atomoxitine from another QuinceDrug?"

"What the heck, are you psychic? Do you have the shining?"

"In Henrytown we get our medications delivered from the QuinceDrug in Salt Lake City." The gears in my head were turning but nothing was coming out… something was skipping along the very edge of my mind. Like a mosquito.

"Um… ok?" Riley apparently wasn't getting it either.

"Riley, see if you can't hack into some QuinceDrug files and find out where they get their atomoxitine."

"Okedoke," he said, relieved to be doing something he knew how to do instead of trying to figure out the mysteries of the universe. Unfortunately I was still stuck trying to figure them out. Nothing was coming to me but I sensed Blackwell was about to tell us something very unpleasant.

"QuinceDrug…" Riley muttered, staring at the screen. "Atomoxitine shipments… I don't see how this could possibly be relevant to anything at all… from a place called Good Earth Medicine in Des Moines, Iowa. Ok. Now what?"

"Do some looking into this Good Earth Place."

"What am I looking for?" he asked, frustrated.

"Anything about atomoxitine." Riley kept clicking and typing, looking troubled. I was pretty sure I knew what was going on, and I wasn't really surprised, but it did make me feel kind of sick to my stomach.

"Ok, I've… wait, there's a password." _Clickclickclickclick. Tap._

"Alright, here's the ingredients."

"See anything suspicious?"

"Aha, how would I know what's suspicious? You think I can remember all that stuff you just named off?"

"Ok… do you see anything about steroids or corticosteroids?"

"No."

"Anything about dipsogen, oligopeptide, or aldosterone?"

"Um…"

"Nitroglycerin, histamine-"

"Wait wait wait, slow down. Ummm, no, no, no… nitroglycerin, no, histamine, no. There's a little asterisk next to something called 'ethanomine', though."

"Well, that's it. That's exactly it," Blackwell said, emphasizing his point by slapping the steering wheel.

"What?"

"Ethanomine is a histamine."

"And so…"

"By nature, when you put histamines in with the main ingredients of atomoxitine, any patients taking it with heart disease, high or low blood pressure, or lung disease are at great risk." Blackwell sounded as if he was reading from a text book. Riley looked mildly impressed, and more than a little thankful.

"Well I sure am glad I don't have heart disease, high or low blood pressure, or lung disease. Why don't they just not give this stuff to people like that?"

"Listen. Ethanomine shouldn't be in there. It doesn't need to be, it's got no use."

"Then why don't they…" Whatever had been prancing around at the edge of my perception decided to start falling through the roof. Riley looked at me.

"Then Good Earth Medicine is one of those places… that put stuff in stuff… that kills people…" said Riley in a very 'Ooooohhh, I get it now' voice. Curiously, he turned back to Blackwell.

"Holy cow, you're like Sherlock."

"Riley, histamine is one of the triggers of cluster headaches. You started getting clusters when you were sixteen, right?" Riley didn't respond. He was thinking. I understood though. This division of the organization was poisoning a whole branch of people, killing them, and giving the ones that weren't already unhealthy but had a very specific neurological make up, that was just waiting to burst into pain, cluster headaches. Like Riley. My best friend. I expected it to dawn on him any second now, and when that happened I thought maybe he'd get really moody, maybe sad, maybe angry.

He smiled.

"Are you freaking kidding me? Are you _serious?_ Wait, wait, hold on, let me get this straight. I get cluster headaches… because of taking atomoxitine from _QuinceDrug_?"

"That's about the gist of it, yes," responded Blackwell, sounding slightly concerned.

"So… if I stop taking atomoxitine from QuinceDrug – or any other drug store that gets their atomoxitine from Good Earth Medicine – I… will… stop… getting headaches?"

"Ahhh… you should, yes."

"YES!!" His shout equaled the intensity of the collapsing building.

"I LOVE you guys! Especially Blackwell! I'd hug you but I'm way back here and you're driving!"

"Riley, it could be a few weeks yet. Have you taken your Verapamil?" Riley shut up for a moment to take the pills. The sun was rising and painting the monoliths on either side of us bright, fiery orange, I was in the car escaping with my best friend who would soon meet the end of his cluster headaches, and one of the kindest and smartest men I had ever encountered, and his angelic wife. And we were escaping. I didn't know exactly where we were going, but there was still no-one following us. I allowed myself a small smile. Were we actually going to get out of this one alive? Had it actually been less than a day since this whole thing had started? Yes. Yes it had. So much had happened.

Riley still had a grin splitting his face in half.

"You want to look something else up for me?" I asked.

"Yeah, sure."

"Look up 'ghost dance'."

Blackwell slammed on the breaks. The car stopped. He put it in park. He turned around and looked at me.

"Did you just say 'ghost dance'?"

"Yes...Last two words I heard Laudes say before we had to leave." Blackwell settled back into his seat, let out a whoosh of breath. _Now what?_ I asked myself. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. I didn't know what 'ghost dance' was but apparently it wasn't anything good. Blackwell started driving again. Mrs. Blackwell turned around to look at us for the first time since entering the car.

"You kids ever remember studying the Wounded Knee Massacre?"

"Well, yes… In high school, a little in college. It was a long time ago, though," I responded. Riley just shook his head in bewilderment. Mrs. Blackwell continued.

"Probably the most publicized event relating to the Ghost Dance movement."

"What is that? What's the Ghost Dance movement?"

"_Bastards,_" muttered Blackwell under his breath, as Mrs. Blackwell opened her mouth to answer. I wonder who were the bastards, this secret organization, or the members of the Ghost Dance movement. Actually, most likely, they were the same. Maybe he was calling _us_ bastards for our ignorance.

"In the 1890's, the United States government had established American Indian reservations across the country. In that century, though, conditions had worsened a lot for the Indians, and many were starving. They didn't understand why such terrible things were allowed to happen. Sometime around then an Indian by the name of Wovoka pronounced himself the messiah, told all Indians that would believe him that if they followed his practice, all white men would be buried under a new Earth that would descend from the sky, along with all of their dead and honored Ancestors. Earth and the people would be renewed. And it would all be done without violence – it was a message of peace."

At this point I was feeling especially awkward. I don't believe that right now in the continuum of time everyone has forgiven everyone else for what their ancestors have done. Just look at Wilkinson. One tiny example. Although I believe it's completely irrational of me, I still feel a pang of guilt when I hear about the African American slavery, or the way the white man treated the American Indians, just two of many, many examples. And here was this sweet looking old Indian lady telling _me_, a white guy who happened to be hopelessly ignorant on this topic, about how my ancestors had, well, made her ancestors miserable. But she looked completely blameless. I felt no guilt because of the way she told the story or the way she looked at me.

"So naturally, under the given conditions, the people were willing to do almost anything to improve what their lives were then. And they were told that the way to stop the white man's trespassing on the native land was to learn the Ghost Dance and the songs that went with it. And they did. They fervently believed in this new religion, and so the movement became more widespread as more people heard about it, more groups started practicing the Ghost Dance." She stopped. Was she done? She looked done.

"That's the Ghost Dance." She turned back around in her seat. Riley poked his finger in the air, as if he had a question. He quickly realized she couldn't see him and so spoke up.

"Um, Mrs. Blackwell, what happened? To the Indians?" She turned back around, shadow of a smile on her face. Riley could have easily looked this all up on the internet, but he would rather hear it from her, I knew, because I felt the same way.

"Tatanka Iyotaka, Sitting Bull, a leader amongst the Sioux, led his people to follow the practice. But in 1890 the white man had broken a land treaty with his people, and so great bitterness existed between the white people and the Sioux people. The white man saw the Sioux dancing the Ghost Dance and they took it to be a prelude to war, which it was for the Sioux. The white man became terrified with the fervent nature of the dances. So in December of 1890 Tatanka Iyotaka was killed, and his followers joined with the people of one of his relatives." She paused, looking almost hesitant.

"The rest isn't important. It doesn't have anything to do with this." We continued to stare at her. I knew how this ended, the story was coming back to me. Riley turned his gaze from Mrs. Blackwell to me. Apparently he had no idea.

"And so we tracked down the group of Ghost Dancers at Wounded Knee Creek. And we killed them," I muttered. I was quite suddenly disturbed by my use of 'we'. It most definitely hadn't been _me_ that had done that.

"I think, however," said Mrs. Blackwell, turning back to us, "that you might try to look up something called millenarianism." _Millenarianism_? What the heck did that mean? Both of the Blackwells were like geniuses. Riley tapped away at his computer.

"Ok, I've got it on Wikipedia… dadada… oh my. It says, 'millenarian groups typically claim that the current society and its rulers are corrupt, unjust, or otherwise wrong. They therefore believe they will be destroyed soon by a powerful force.'. Aaaand, here it mentions the Ghost Dance, says the movement was a 'prominent example'. Wow, look at all these – al-Qaeda, Jehovah's Witnesses, Mormons, Rastafarians, shakers…" I cut him off.

"So what we're dealing with here is a… a group of Indians who are continuing the movement underground, kind of? They haven't forgiven the whites from taking their land yet?" Blackwell's response was terse.

"No. They can't possibly think they're following in the footsteps of their ancestors. Dancing and praying is one thing, putting poison in people's medications and rendering thousands of people miserable is completely different. If this _is _an Indian group, they're definitely a very radical and very angry bunch of people."

"Wait a minute… Laudes told me something else… she said something like these people are anyone who… believed. That they're from everywhere. And she said…" She'd said something that had seemed darned important at the time. I wracked my brain.

"She said it wasn't just the US. It's everybody." Riley looked at me, Blackwell glanced at us in the rearview mirror. I continued slowly.

"And that Jeremy shot her to do her a favor…and that kind of infers… that these people expect to die, too." The vehicle was quiet and I suspected everybody was in deep thought. Again. Riley even looked a bit panicked. He shut his computer.

"Blackwell," he asked, a note of anxiety in his voice. He dumped the contents of the paper prescription bag on the seat between us. "How do you work this sumatriptan?"

Blackwell slowed and stopped. By the time he'd gotten the syringe in his hand Riley's eye was once again teary, face a familiar shade of pain. I looked away as Blackwell did the job quickly, then got back into the car. I ventured a glance to Riley's arm and grimaced inwardly – it was bruising already. I was suddenly very grateful for my lack of conditions that would require subcutaneous control. I didn't know how I'd deal with that kind of treatment. Riley was trying his best to hold back the outward symptoms of torturous inward pain, and was doing a pretty decent job… that is, until he kind of started sagging onto the seat between us.

"Riley? Are you ok?"

"I, uh… feels funny… ow…" It was as if he had been shot with a tranquilizer dart. All the color had drained from his face, and his visage shut down to a blank stare.

"Riley!" I exclaimed. "Blackwell, he just… I think he just fainted." Mrs. Blackwell glanced back at him, concerned. Blackwell himself just sighed.

"Check his vitals. Is he breathing?" I put my hand in front of Riley's face.

"Faintly, yes."

"Check the pulse." I took Riley's wrist in my hands and searched for the pulse, finding it quickly.

"Still beating… feels kind of fast."

"Eyes." I peeled Riley's lids back. The pupils seemed to be nearing the same size.

"They look a little better."

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do, then, he'll have to wake up in his own time. Heart rate went up when the headache started, was too much for the concussion. He should be fine." Anger started bubbling around in my head. Probably irrational, but Riley was unconscious, for heaven' sake, that wasn't good. Didn't Blackwell want to check Riley out just in case?

"I don't mean to alarm anybody," said Blackwell calmly from the front seat, "But there seems to be a string of cars approaching us from ahead…" I sat straight, looked through the windshield. There were six of them, all different kinds, rapidly approaching. Blackwell must have been able to see them minutes ago.

"I'm just going to keep driving. Ben, you duck." I ducked, leaning over Riley's body. There were a few moments of silence and I prayed we would pass them by, they would keep driving. I wondered how far away they were now. And now. Had we passed them yet? Blackwell was being awfully silent, but the car was still going the same speed…

He slammed on the breaks, cursing in a language I didn't understand. Mrs. Blackwell gasped. The car stopped, screeching loudly. I heard doors slamming around me, shouts, lots of shouting, all of it angry sounding.

"Well…" said Blackwell, "I think we should get out." I peeked above the door and my heart sunk to my stomach. We were surrounded by six carloads of people wielding guns. One man stepped forward a bit, out of the crowd. The rest of the people hushed up.

"Get out of the car, now. Stand in front of it." His voice was firm, no-nonsense. So was his face. His skin was bronze, cheekbones wide, short hair straight and black… and his eyes were like almond-shaped slits, slanting inwards. This guy wasn't an American Indian. He had the accent to prove it. He was Chinese.

I pulled the computer off of Riley's lap and shoved it under the seat before crawling out of the car, hands up, following what the Blackwells were doing. They were going to kill us now, I knew it. I'd been in a lot of situations… well, at least two… when there'd been a gun aimed at my head. But never before had I been so sure that I was going to die. They had no reason to let me live, did they? I didn't know anymore but I knew they were ruthless. They were willing to kill. Were these the so-called Ghost Dancers?

What about Riley? I was almost grateful he was out. If we were about to be killed, he would never know. That thought saddened me and almost brought tears to my eyes. That would mean that for all intents and purposes, he was already dead. He had seen the last of his conscious moments. Riley was already gone.

The Chinese man stepped forward, still aiming at my head.

"Where's Riley Poole?" So they knew who we were. I didn't see why I should tell him, if he was just going to kill us anyways. I stayed silent. The man walked up to me and swung the butt of the gun at my temple; I ducked swiftly, but he was too quick - knocked me in the head on the upswing of his next aim. Once again, I was seeing stars as pain overwhelmed my head, blossoming rapidly from the point of impact, I could feel the sensation crawling into all of my nerve endings. I couldn't hear anything for a moment, it felt as if cottenballs had been shoved in my ears. The pavement tilted upwards until it was parallel to my body and slammed into me. I held onto it – it felt like the only solid thing at the moment. The sensation of the warm pavement under my clothing and skin, so solid and immobile, felt comfortable, and in my state of brief deafness and fuzzy vision, everything was slow and dreamy… I wanted to sleep…

A large black shoe was approaching rapidly and I felt the impact in my abdomen, rendering me breathless, pulling me out of the trance-like state I had been in. I heard a gunshot, as if from a distance, muffled shouting, a car door opening. My hearing was slowly coming back, a funny ring in my right ear. Vision was clearing. I still felt like I'd just stepped off of the Tilt-A-Whirl of Doom and couldn't quite bring myself to rise from the ground. An oddly-shaped blob was cutting across my vision, must have been a person a few yards away. They looked like a hunchback. No… two people. A man with another slung over his shoulder.

The man was carrying Riley.

Towards one of the cars.

Well, that just wasn't acceptable. The Chinese man seemed to be instructing the Blackwells about something or another but I didn't really hear them. I pulled my head off the ground, feeling like my skull and the pavement were magnetically attracted. Chinese man was walking to one of the cars. Got my chest off the ground, arms underneath me. I could do it. Riley wasn't in a car yet, the man hadn't arrived at the right one… One knee under me, Chinese man disappeared. Where was everybody else? Two knees. Where was Riley? Gone already? There he went, shoved like a stuffed dummy into that little green Focus. I made myself tall again, tried to stilt towards them on impossibly long legs, what was wrong with me, I couldn't focus on anything. The cars were started up, some were moving. Blackwell? Yes, in the background, telling me to stop. I knew something he didn't, though, I had seen them take Riley. In that Focus. Driving away. I'd just have to run after it, then. I lunged forward and once again the ground was tilting up to meet me face-on. It must have been conspiring with the Ghost Dancers. Black pavement obscured my vision and for the brief second before I lost consciousness I wondered whether I was being buried alive by the new Earth.

**If you find anything about this still unclear and want an answer, just ask away, I'll try to clarify. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Thuraya Known – I'm glad you liked the 'Ben falls down' part. I've never experienced that before, and it sounds like you have, so I'm glad you thought it was good. I almost just breezed through his falling over, but for some odd reason I decided to work on that a bit more. What a coincidence you're studying the Ghost Dance! Keep me in check, if I make any mistakes, let me know!**

**Dark Duchess of the Underworld – I'm fairly certain that everything about the Ghost Dance is accurate. That would be one subject I wouldn't want to screw up on… but the medical stuff is mostly BS. **

**A short chapter again, which I don't like doing, but I've been so busy lately I just thought I'd update what I have. H'enjoy.**

I knew I wasn't being buried under the new Earth but I thought about it anyways; was it really that bad if all white men died? Well, _I _sure hadn't done anything wrong. I was willing to live in peace and harmony with anyone who'd do the same. I didn't deserve to die.

Someone was tapping my back.

"Ben, you ok?" It was Blackwell. I rolled over and faced the now pretty cloudless sky. The sky and the doctor's face hung directly over mine, strange orange and yellow and brown streaks hanging in my peripheral vision. The ground was still tilting around a bit, but the back of my head hurt if I lay like that so I sat up.

Miraculously, the dizziness stopped when I sat up. With the absence of disorientation of my physical world came surprisingly sharp reorientation of what had just happened. They'd taken Riley. I stood, started towards the car.

"Come on, we have to follow them," I said, knowing something was a little weird about that plan, but what else was there to do?

"Ben, stop. Did you hear what they said?"

"They said something?" I turned around. Blackwell approached, looking more tired than I'd seen him since I'd known him, which was still less than twenty-four hours. Mrs. Blackwell just looked huffy.

"They said they took Riley so he could help them get false authorizations for their projects."

"What makes them think he'll comply with them?" I asked, knowing the answer. Blackwell voiced my predictions.

"They said they had ways of persuasion," he said, voice dripping with annoyance, probably at having to repeat the overly cliché threat. It always sounds so silly until it happens to you or someone you know. Then suddenly it's really, really terrifying. I felt a pang of something shoot through my gut. What was that? What is it that makes your guts twist up so that you can actually, _physically_ feel pain, makes you want to crumple and close your eyes? Was it fear, or anxiety? Some weird hormones released when you experience panicky dread like I was?

I breathed. Had I been holding my breath? Yes.

What would they do to him? Were they just going to beat him until he did the job? Cut off his feet, break his knees, poke him in the eye with red-hot pokers, not realizing he was already feeling that pain again because he has no way of preventing the headaches now? They wouldn't seriously hurt him, they needed him to be conscious. He needed to be able to think so he could do whatever it was they wanted him to do.

I sighed – here it was yet again. Except now it was up to Riley. Would he choose the masses or himself? I truly didn't know. I wanted to believe he'd choose the masses, but when you think about it, when threatened with painful bodily harm, I'll bet a lot of people would give something up to avoid it. Now, what did _I _want? Did I actually want him to take whatever they did to him and not try to protect himself? I was split, part of me willed him to do whatever they told him, the other part… hoped he could handle the pain.

Not the thing to be thinking about. Either choice was bad. It was my job to eliminate the possibility of either. Had to do something quickly. The Blackwells were staring at me. Not saying anything.

"Alright, what should we do, you guys have any idea?" They didn't say anything. Blackwell approached the driver's side door, Mrs. Blackwell the backseat. I took that as a cue to sit next to Blackwell. I shut the door behind me and looked at him expectantly. When he spoke he kept his eyes staring straight out before him.

"When he hit you… he told us to drive straight to Price and park in the water treatment parking lot. He said if we didn't obey him he'd… harm Riley. And that we risked setting off something that would…" The doctor struggled for words. I finished for him.

"That would kill everybody."

"Basically."

"He also said he wanted each of us to call every hour. He'll be tracking our progress to make sure we don't go anywhere. He gave us this one to use, said it was rigged to be invisible." Blackwell handed me a cell phone. I wanted to throw it out the window.

"Did he say anything else?"

"He confirmed what you were saying."

"What?"

"Your suspicion that their ultimate plan is to have everyone dead. Including themselves." I wondered at the lack of surprise I felt. I'd suspected, sure. But upon confirmation… after everything else that had happened, it wasn't so weird after all. Now the Ghost Dance theory didn't make as much sense – if everyone was going to be dead, what was the point of shooting for a new Earth? Who would be there to enjoy it?

"They say why they were doing this?"

"No."

"They must be crazy."

"Quite possibly. They sound cult-like to me."

"Yep, definitely crazy." We sat for a moment. I really wanted to slide into the metaphorical muddy pit of doom and wallow in despair, but I had everyone in the world pulling me away from the pit, Riley pulling the hardest. It was pretty much my responsibility to save everybody. And it looked, at the moment, quite impossible. What in the world could I do? Everyone was going to die, but if I did anything… everyone was going to die sooner.

Blackwell turned the ignition.

"We have to make the first call in five minutes. If we haven't moved from this spot since then, they might think we're up to something." He started driving.

I was slipping into the pit of doom, despite how hard Riley and everyone else tugged at my mind. I turned around to Mrs. Blackwell.

"I don't believe we've formally met. Hello, I'm Benjamin Gates." I stuck out my hand. She smiled, took it and shook.

"Century Blackwell." _Century_?

"A story behind the name?"

"I was named after the Century Plant." Not more plants. But I would rather think about plants than how to save the world.

"I've heard of it - doesn't it bloom once every century?" Her smile widened.

"Common misconception. It takes many years, but not as long as a century. Benjamin, I know you don't want to think about it, but Riley is in danger, not to mention the rest of the world." She looked a bit apologetic, which is the only reason I didn't feel as angry as I otherwise should have.

"I know, I know, I know, I just… _can't _think of anything. It's impossible."

"Have you _tried _thinking?"

"Of course I have!" She didn't say anything. I sighed.

"Well no, not really. I don't want to . I just... how could this be happening?" I asked the windshield.

"That is a question best asked in the past tense after we've figured out how to solve this." She was probably right but I sure didn't want to think about it logically like that. I wanted to fume and yell and cry.

"Do _you _guys have any ideas?" I asked.

"What we have to do is stop it ourselves," said Blackwell calmly. There was a calm in the inside of my head, when nothing happened. I'd tried meditating in college, and I guess what I was shooting for was a period of time where your mind registered no thoughts. I had never been able to do it. I was always thinking something, usually when I was trying to meditate it was something like 'stop thinking, Ben. No, don't tell yourself that. Just don't. Don't think. Don't tell yourself not to think. Don't do that, stop thinking', etcetera. But right now, I came pretty close. My one brief, simple thought, was 'ok.' I thought that to myself. I thought it to myself once, but it lasted for a few moments. What Blackwell had said sounded rather vague, but I knew what he meant. He meant that instead of informing someone else, instead of getting the word out, we needed to find the keystone on this big bad procedure and yank it out, render it sterile. Then we could worry about all the little things that were happening, about Good Earth Medicine and all the others. And Riley.

"Alright, that's good. Our only option. Good option. Two obstacles I can think of to that: One, we don't know what it is or how to find out what it is. Two, our Chinese friend is tracking us. He'll know if we're up to something." I didn't mean it in a negative way, I was simply stating the facts.

"Well, we have Riley's computer, don't we?" asked Century.

"Haha, yes, we do, don't we? They forgot about that. But I can't hack. Can you hack?" I asked, hopeful. Hey, she had a cell phone. Maybe she was a hacker too. She shook her head.

"Ok. Well… we know… it's going to kill everybody."

"Do we? Directly or indirectly?" Blackwell asked, glancing at me.

"What do you mean?"

"It could be some bio virus disease thing, or it could… I don't know, destroy or render something that would in effect wipe out the entire world." The entire world. I could feel an outburst coming on and I did my best not to shout when it popped out.

"_Why_? Why are they trying to kill everyone? What reason could they possibly have to kill every single human, including themselves? Who would do that? Is it some… weird religious practice? Do they think they're the catalysts to some big apocalypse?"

"Ben, why don't you make the first call." Blackwell handed me the phone. I sighed. Looking at the number written on a post-it note on the dash, I dialed, wondering if I'd be able to keep my anger in check. Wondering who would answer, what they'd want, if they'd let me talk to Riley, if they'd even talk. What if they just wanted our coordinates? The other end rang. Half a ring and someone picked up.

"Ben, Century, or Garrison?"

"This is Ben."

"Good to hear your voice, Ben. Let's hear the others'."

"No, let's talk for a minute."

"How about I hear the Blackwell's voices, _then_ we talk?" I sighed, handed the phone to Blackwell, who said his name, and Century, who did the same.

"Alright…what are you doing with Riley?" The man on the other end laughed. It was the Chinese man, I could tell by the accent.

"Didn't Garrison tell you? He'll be helping us out with some authorizations we've been having trouble with."

"And you're going to persuade him to help you _how_?"

"I know you're worried, Ben. Maybe you'd like to talk to Riley?" What? He wasn't supposed to offer to let me talk to Riley. I was supposed to demand that.

"What's the catch?"

"I'd appreciate it if you'd convince him that it's in his best interests to comply. We're not interested in hurting him but we will, if we must. We just want this to go smoothly."

"Whatever. Give him the phone."

"One moment." I held my breath. Muffled speaking.

"Hey, Ben." Relief flooded my chest. I didn't know why, they still had him and he could still get hurt. But he was conscious. He sounded tired.

"Riley! Are you ok?"

"I have a headache, as usual. I'm kinda dizzy. And I have a slight neck cramp. How are you?"

"Have they hurt you?"

"No, Ben, I just have a headache, a neck cramp, and I'm dizzy. I'm fine. How are you?"

"They're going to try to make you do things for them. Some sort of authorization."

"Ben, are you ok?"

"What?"

"That's the third time I've asked you that." I shook my head.

"Yes, I'm fine, I'm just worried. Riley… I'm supposed to tell you to do whatever they want you to do."

"Yeah, I heard Chinese guy telling you what to tell me. I'm in his backseat. He doesn't look too concerned that I'm talking about him."

"Be careful!"

"Ben, I really don't think these guys are going to do anything yet. If they weren't members of a psychotic cult that's trying to destroy the world and they're probably planning on torturing me to death later on, I'd be pretty ok with this."

"They won't torture you if you just do what they ask." What was I saying? Is that what I meant to say?

"Is that what you meant to say?" he asked. I was silent for a moment, thinking.

"Riley… see if you can determine how important these jobs are. If they really don't help along their grand plot, you should comply."

"And if they do?"

"Then… then…"

"Then I won't comply."

"That's not what-"

"That was _so_ what you were thinking."

"Where are you guys?"

"I don't think the guy with the gun sitting next to me would appreciate me telling you that."

"Oooh." Another moment of silence. I was surprised they hadn't taken the phone away from Riley yet.

"Riley, I'm… I'm really sorry this is happening."

"Came with the job description, I suppose."

"I didn't give you a job description. You had no idea what you were getting into."

"I would have come along anyways." I wanted to tell him I was going to save him., I was going to come up with some miraculous plot to spring him from their grasp, but I couldn't do that on the phone. And I really didn't have any kind of plan yet. Shouldn't get his hopes up.

"Are you ok, Riley?" I asked quietly. I hoped he caught that I wasn't talking physically.

"Um…" Pause on his end. "I'm… I'm kind of… I'm scared, Ben." His voice had lost its characteristic flippant tone. It was quiet and I detected a slight shake to it. I sighed.

"I'm not going to abandon you."

"I know," he said, but I knew he was just saying it because he knew I wanted to hear it. Knew I wanted to hear him say he trusted me to save him. Did that mean he was just too scared to think straight, or he really didn't trust me?

"Trust me, Riley."

"Ok, Ben." Same tone as before.

"Ben, he wants the phone back. You guys be careful. Don't do anything stupid."

"Like we ever do stupid things. Riley… talk to you later." What else was I supposed to say?

"Bye, Ben." Muffled voices.

"So… I noticed you didn't make a great effort to convince him, Ben."

"You can't seriously expect me to do that?"

"It has to happen sometime, Ben. We're holding all the cards here. You can't do anything. It's only a matter of time before he helps us, it may as well be sooner and painless. Well it was nice to chat. I'm coming up on an exit, I'd better get off the phone. Safe driving and all."

"Could you just… please be careful." What the heck, I was telling Riley's captor to be careful. What was I thinking?"

"What?"

"Don't hurt him," _if you don't need to_. The last part of my thought wasn't voiced. I didn't want to encourage him.

"Can't guarantee anything, Ben. Again, we don't want to hurt him but if he doesn't cooperate I'm afraid we won't have a choice. I'm sure you understand. You're a smart man, you have to see things from our perspective. Some part of you understands. Really have to go now, Ben. Call in another hour." I shut the phone.

_He shut the phone. I shut mine and put it on the dash, just in time to merge onto the next highway. I looked in the rearview mirror at Riley. Admittedly, he looked pretty miserable. I almost felt bad but I didn't want to harbor any sympathetic feelings towards him. That would just make the process more difficult. _

_"Riley, don't look so sad. You realize you could have been held by so many levels of worse people? We haven't touched you."_

_"Yet." _

_"If you just do what we ask, you'll be fine. You heard what I said to Ben, you really have no other choice." He kept his silence. He was thinking that Ben would save him, someone would come rescue him. He wouldn't have to make the choice. Well… he was wrong. No-one would come for him, I'd made quite sure of that. And he thought he'd just have to withstand simple beatings. Maybe when he realized what we were going to do if he resisted he'd go along with helping us. Then again, maybe it would encourage him to resist. There are those who don't believe in that sort of thing. What we were going to do to him if he resisted. I, however, knew it would work. He fit the description for susceptible victims. He didn't seem to have much self-confidence. Not much of a sense of identity. Always worried he'd done something wrong. As far as I could tell, it would work fine. _

_"Alright, Riley. I'm going to tell you everything now."_

_"Everything? Like why you're killing everyone?"_

_"Yes. Like that."_

_"Why are you telling me?"_

_"Maybe we'll get lucky and you'll realize it's all for the better." He laughed. _

_"That's likely." I gave a slight smile at his reflection in the mirror. _

_"You'll see it our way." I hoped for his sake that we wouldn't have to help him see it our way. He laughed again, nervously._

_"What are you going to do, brainwash me?"_

**So I decided to change perspectives. Not permanently. But I couldn't just leave Riley hanging! Alright, things are really picking up in my life, so I think my little story sprint could be over, but I'll keep updating as much as I can. **

**Oh no, I've totally forgotten about Abi again! And ma and pa Gates… Ben's forgotten about them! AAH! I should remedy that. Yorn desh born!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry I didn't make it more apparent at the end of this last chapter what was going on. I decided to switch perspectives because Ben was being whiney and I missed Riley already. So whenever it's in italics, it's going to be from the perspective of the Chinese man. Who is Riley's captor. **

**And this is when chapters start getting really short, I believe, otherwise the posts will be depressingly far apart.**

**Momiji'sunusedhalo – Can't say exactly what's going to happen to him, but if you can't handle moderate to extreme Riley angst… you may want to be careful what you read in the next few chapters… hope my above explanation makes it more clear what's going on, thanks for letting me know it was kind of obscure.**

**Durithyll – Haha, I appreciate your enthusiasm! It's contagious… sorry to let you down and take forever with the update, I wish I could update sooner. Oh, excuse my ignorance but what do you mean by 'whump'? For there will indeed be upcoming angst… **

**Dark Duchess of the Underworld – Hey, I like that idea! It would do a decent job of integration. I'll keep that in mind, thank you!**

**Thuraya Known – Thanks again for your review, I love your reviews. I'll be having a lot more Chinese Man POV's soon… Again, about the updating, I really wish I could update more now, but… I have the feeling everyone knows what I mean.**

**Disclaimer! Do we seriously need these every chapter? I actually have no idea. Everyone else is doing it. So I may as well jump on the bandwagon. Ben and Riley aren't mine. I just manipulate them with ink pixels!**

"They haven't done anything yet," I announced to the Blackwells, tossing the phone into the glove compartment. Who the heck ever kept gloves in their glove department? Insurance, hand warmers, maybe a wrench and a screw driver. Random papers, gas station receipts. Illegal cell phones. Bah.

"Riley seems fine. The Chinese man is making it sound like they don't _want_ to do anything to him." _They all say that though_. Not that I'd know. Really.

"I feel like I was saying something important before I had to call…"

"You were wondering why they wanted to kill everybody."

"Ah yes. Thank you." Suddenly I just didn't really feel like pondering that. I wanted to save Riley and I wanted to save everyone else. I was tired. Tired. Didn't want to strategize. Just wanted to do it.

Gun?

Had I seen a gun in the glove department?

I re-opened it. There was a gun.

"Blackwell, is this yours?" He glanced at it, sighed wearily.

"Yes, that's mine. There aren't any bullets though. It's been in there for years."

"Why do you have a gun?"

"I don't really know… my father was an officer, that's his gun. As to why I keep it in there… again, a mystery."

"But no bullets?"

"No." Dang. Not that I knew what I'd do with a gun anyways. Shoot someone? Could I kill someone? Dead-looking shrubby plants were whizzing past my face, patches of beeflower and some shocks of bright red grass mashing together to make a massive ketchup and mustard smear across my field of vision. Food. I was hungry. Hungry and tired and cranky. I wasn't going to complain about the hunger. If Riley was going to be hungry, well then, so could I. Even though I didn't know if they'd refuse him food. And what was the point in not eating, anyways? I'd just get more cranky and more tired and my mind would get even fuzzier. Part of my headache might go away.

I was rambling in my own head. I remembered such a feeling from my college days. Did I care what Rudolph Otto had to say about the 'idea of the holy'? Heck no. I'd distract myself with anything, if only to not read the dreaded packet of text. But what did I think I was doing, daring to not concentrate when the situation was so dire. I hated myself for even starting to distract myself. Wondered how I could have let myself think that was ok for even a minute.

I awoke some unnamable amount of time later, window cool on my forehead, neck cramped. I didn't feel refreshed at all. And now the guilt settled in for falling asleep while I had been telling myself not to get distracted. I looked over at Blackwell. The man looked tired. Century was staring out at the vast horizon. Or something.

Had to think of something. Something. Something. The word 'something' started repeating itself over and over in my head.

"Doc, I think I'm going crazy."

"Don't fall off the wagon yet, Ben, please. We need your brains."

"Brains? Who's the resident genius here?"

"We have our strengths but I believe you'll be the primary director behind this one." Excellent. Just what I needed to hear. All up to Ben Gates. I started to laugh, but felt like I was going to go insane and start crying, so I stopped.

_"What are you going to do, brainwash me?" he asked. I ignored the question._

_"Riley, do you know who we are?"_

_"…No." I heard the sarcastic comment bitten back. In the rearview mirror his face was grasped in his hands. Something surfaced in my mind that I'd been wondering._

_"Why were you unconscious when we found you in the car?"_

_"I don't know." The way he said it assured me that he did know, in fact._

_"You should tell us. I'd like to know if there's anything we should be aware of before we expect anything of you."_

_"So you don't accidentally kill me, you mean."_

_"Yes." May as well be frank with him. His hands sunk a few inches from his face and he tried to raise his eyes to meet mine in the mirror, but they didn't quite make it. Instead he just stared out the windshield for a moment, as if watching his inevitable death approaching rapidly. I felt an unwelcome twang of pity in my gut. If only he'd agree with us. A person like him didn't really deserve what we were going to do if he didn't cooperate. It just happened to be this oblivious young man who had no idea how deep in he was who ended up being the hacker prodigy. _

_Well, what had to be done had to be done. _

_"Keeping quiet?" I asked, glancing back at him. To my surprise he'd lost that sullen look. Not that I could see much of his face – it was buried in both hands. _

_"Riley?" I asked. No reaction. Was he crying? He seemed to be shaking a bit._

_"Is he ok?" The guard in back seemed a bit hesitant to touch him, but brought no reaction upon shaking Riley's shoulder. He had better not be dying, was my immediate thought. That wouldn't be fair. I wanted to pull the car over but that would be too risky, here on the highway. We were on a strict schedule. _

_"Riley! What's going on?" He had started rocking back and forth and what little I could see of his face seemed warped with pain. And yes, I told myself, he was crying. Maybe he was having a panic attack. Or a nervous breakdown. He'd just have to sit there, then._

_But why did he look like he was in such pain?_

_I glanced at the clock. Half an hour before they called again. Maybe I'd ask Ben what was up. Maybe Ben wouldn't tell me. Maybe Riley would be dead by then. How much longer before we got there? Another two hours. This had better not be serious. _

_Riley curled into the car door, as if he was trying to hide, slowly twisting his body into itself and into weird angles, what you'd expect to see from someone who was… in mindless pain. Like a skewered worm. _

_"Riley!" I said sharply, hoping to break him from whatever cage his mind resided in. _

_"What's going on?" No response. _

_I'd just have to call Ben then._

_I dialed the number and waited for three rings before Ben's voice answered, puzzled. _

_"Hello?"_

_"Hey, Ben, it's me… "What was I doing, I was making it sound like we were life long friends._

_"Um, something appears to be wrong with Riley… he won't respond to anything, he's just…" I looked at his form via the rearview mirror. "Kind of curled there, looks kind of miserable." I thought I heard Ben laugh on the other end. I wondered if I'd hit him too hard with my gun. _

I knew the Chinese man was concerned that Riley was going to die on him. I laughed to myself. Let him worry. He couldn't do anything about it. And I wasn't going to tell him what was up; he might use it against Riley. He'd probably figure it out quickly enough without my help.

"Is there anything else you want?"

"Tell me what's wrong with him."

"No," I said simply.

"I can help him." Now, _that _made me mad. He was threatening to torture Riley, and yet here he was telling me that he'd help him.

"How can you say that? How can you help him if he's just going to die anyways?"

"We're all going to die someday, Ben."

"Which just makes the particular day it's on all the more crucial."

"Well, Ben, I hope for your sake that whatever's going on with him isn't deadly, or his death is in _your_ hands." I scoffed. I wasn't really a scoffy person, so that kind of surprised me.

"Call back in twenty-five minutes, Ben." He hung up. I had the sudden urge to whip the cell phone out the window again. Frustration was clouding my mind, I knew, low blood sugar and lack of sleep pushing away any voice of reason I'd previously had. I didn't even want to be thinking about why I wanted to act without reason, but I had to. I at least had that much control. For now.

"So," I said, using that word to shatter the silence that had formed like stifling ice around us. Shatter the silence. What a cliché. And it held so much truth. It had annoyed me before that so many clichés were so true, so appropriate, and yet so many people used them that everyone else got sick of hearing the truths they carried behind their familiar words. I had killed the quiet. I had stabbed the lack of sound with one simple, short noise.

"We need to do something." I left it at that for a while. Of course we had to do something. What though? That was the question.

"What can we do?" It was like trying to analyze the Allegory of the Cave at three in the morning. I needed focus. I needed coffee, dammit.

"Coffee." Blackwell sighed dreamily, clearly sharing my desire. His face held a hint of sadness. It did. It wasn't just a cliché.

"What?"

"No buildings from here to Price," he admitted sadly.

"When we get out of all this and save the world, I'm going to install a coffee shop right up there, on top of that butte." I pointed to the monolithic formation jutting into the sky like those jutty things in the dinosaur part of the old Fantasia.

"No-one would be able to get there," Blackwell pointed out.

"It would be more of a… tribute to our achievement. People would look at it as they drove past and be reminded of our heroic accomplishment of saving the world without any coffee. And they'd be like, hey, if they can do it, so can I."

"Do what? Save the world? Hopefully it won't have to happen again."

"Well, if anyone passing by here happens to be trying to save the world and they need coffee, it would be great inspiration to them."

"The way you two are going," commented Century from the backseat, "We'll never get the chance. Let's plan our tributes _after_ we save the world." Apparently women had some sort of weird store of focus somewhere in their bodies that men didn't have. A _focus gland._ That excretes focus when the body is in need of focus. Century's extra focus hormones kicked in and she spoke.

"I don't want to say this but it needs to be said. They're not going to kill Riley, they need his skills. We need to stop worrying about him. He'll live. We _do _need to worry about what they're planning on doing. We need to get to the core of their plan and disengage it." I laughed in my head. _Disengage._ What a funny word for her to use. "We need to do it ourselves, unless we can quick find a few trusted individuals to help us out. I think we need to get to Price first, maybe accidentally get lost, scope out the city. And whatever we end up doing it has to take them by surprise. It has to be something they won't expect at all, something that they won't even know how to respond to. We need to do _something._ If we screw it up, we're back to square one, we just try something new."

"Unless they kill us."

"That's something we should be aware of, yes. But again, it's kind of all or nothing. If we fail we're going to die anyways. Ben," and I jerked at my name. I knew what she was saying without really listening.

"You should get some sleep. Your mind needs a break. We'll wake you to greet China man." I couldn't really argue with that, even though I really wanted to. For the sake of arguing. For the sake of conflict. Like I needed any more conflict at the moment. I shifted around for a few minutes, trying to find the ever elusive comfy sleeping position. I wasn't really aware when my body finally sunk into a semi-acceptable situation and my mind was released. I spent the time before our next call drifting in and out, almost entering the deeper levels of sleep, awakened by that weird feeling in my gut I sometimes got when I slept in vehicles, probably due to the strange twisting of my body position.

Phone in my ear. I said Hello. I fell back into unconsciousness. This time I experienced a period of darkness, unaware of anything at all, peace embracing my soul. Then we arrived at the place they were keeping Riley. I stretched, got out of the car. No-one else there, at this weird abandoned factory with the fuzzy edges and obscure corners. My focus was really just on one door, blood-red and grimy, not a good sign, I knew. That door hadn't always been red. I reached for it and my hand froze to the handle. I drew it back in shock, a layer of my skin sticking to the metal, hand bleeding. Riley was in there, though, so I grasped the handle, turned it, pulled the door open.

It was dark inside but I could feel him in there. None of the bright sunlight illuminated the room, it was like a black hole. Riley, I called, and he didn't answer with words, but I felt a wave of frigid despair rushing from the room, spilling out, like fumes from the top of a nuclear reactor, engulfing me and I choked on the potency. Stumbling inside, feeling around with groping hands, searching for a body, my right hand encountered an empty area. Riley was there, but he wasn't. He was covered in transparent blood, his spirit leaking out of the many new holes in his body, sick and wilted and shredded into irrecoverable bits. Alive but gone. What makes a person?

Sharp breath, wrenched from sleep. Where was I? Where was Riley? Reality settled down upon me slowly, like motes of dust. Gently. I wished reality would have come crashing down on me like a bag of anvils because then I would have been able to banish the lingering sense of despair and sadness from my mind.

"I'm done sleeping," I said. Time to start planning.

**Time to start planning, indeed. If it seems like nothing happened in this chapter… well, you'd be correct… It's hard to progress when you don't know **_**how **_**to. I don't know what's going to happen once they get to Price, which is why no-one really seems willing to come up with a plan. Eehhhh, it's so hard to concentrate on this story when there are so many things happening in my life. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Thuraya Known – Hmmm… interesting thought about cluster headaches and brainwashing… definitely going to check into how that might work. There's a pretty specific process for this sort of thing and I wonder how something like that would affect Riley. As for the plot obstruction, I now have something to work with, but it doesn't involve Ben and co. for a while… But we'll see. Thanks for the help and suggestions! **

**The Randomist – Haha, review when and how you want, I don't mind… although I do love your reviews… I get it about homework, I'm kind of swamped too! Bleh. I'm glad you like the 'bad' guys. I'm not too fond of purely evil villains and such. They make no sense. If they're going to be really evil there'd better be a dang good explanation for that. But I'm going to be integrating one of those pretty soon! For the sake of fun and plot.**

**Disclaimer: Ben & Riley aren't mine. **

_Riley had stopped his throes fifteen minutes ago. They had gotten alarmingly violent midway through and the only way I kept my eyes on the road and foot on the accelerator was because I knew he'd be ok. Ben would have sounded very worried if he hadn't known what was going on, so I could conclude that there was something about Riley that we didn't know, and that was, assumedly, non-fatal. Even if he made it look fatal. We'd have to do some checking of records when we got back, see if we could discover what was going on. _

_Riley was now a clam. He wouldn't respond to anything we said, staring dejectedly out the window, probably sick with nerves. I had been thinking I would tell him everything, but now that he was so unresponsive, I decided to tell him later, a while after we got there. One more hour. At least it was sunny out. Cloudy days in the desert have a very ominous quality about them, and while I like a good dreary day now and then, I preferred the sun lighting the red rock on fire and contrasting with the sapphire sky. Things were tense enough as it was. We still hadn't discovered why Ben knew what was going on. Or how much he knew. _

_This whole thing could have been done so much more cleanly if that upstart Jeremy hadn't ruined everything. Sure, he and his mother had alerted us as to their presence, but blowing up the clinic? That was a bit over the line. Now the whole town and police department knew something was going on. They'd be suspicious. _

_Jeremy. Where was he right now? Had he been caught? He wouldn't tell them anything, I knew that much. He was supernaturally dedicated. He was like a robot. It was good to have such unshakable members on your side, but I don't think Jeremy even ever considered the other side. He isn't willing to stand in another's shoes, making him very dangerous and unpredictable. _Know your enemy_, I told myself. He didn't know his enemy. He didn't understand his enemy. All he knew was that they were the enemy. I wouldn't go so far as to call everyone the enemy. I understood where they were coming from, I understood their views. I had done some deep and prolonged thinking on the subject and knew what I believed. Why was Jeremy the way he was? Why didn't he question his own actions, why didn't he consider the other side? Or had he already? He was a very angry individual and I wondered how he had come to be that way – he certainly hadn't gotten it from his mother. _

_Laudes wasn't really supposed to be part of this, though. She seemed loyal enough so I wasn't worried, but my faith in her, if she ended up being caught, wasn't the highest. _

_Hopefully I wouldn't have to worry too much longer, though. If Riley did what we asked, things would go a lot smoother. From what Laudes had told us about her conversation with him, he was quite an avid fan of Ed Abbey, therefore this probably wouldn't be as hard as it would have otherwise been. _

_Ed Abbey now. What would he have said? That was a favorite musing of mine. I liked to think he would have supported our efforts. From his books, he didn't seem as if he had been a people person. Of course, that wasn't what this was about. I liked people, but I'd put other things in front of them. I'd put our mother in front of them. _

_Kind yellow sunlight poured through the window as if the glass wasn't there, hitting my face and kissing it with welcome warmth. I smiled. _

_Riley finally, finally removed his eyes from the passing landscape, stared at my eyes in the rear view mirror. I knew they were smiling eyes. He thought I was crazy, smiling to myself. He was probably terrified. He'd been kidnapped by an insane smiling Chinese man that wanted to kill everybody. Was that funny? My smile widened. Then in fell. I stared at the road ahead. _

_Ten minutes until Ben called._

"Ten minutes," I said to myself. Ten minutes until we called again. Half an hour until we got to Price. Not enough fuel to get there though, or so I told myself, although it was probably just more negativity due to lack of everything essential for survival. I had said it was time to plan. So we had hummed and hawed and contemplated using Riley's computer, contemplated trying to kill whoever it was that waited for us in Price, contemplated hiding once we got there, calling the police, calling Abi, calling the Chinese man and bugging him. The only plan we came up with that we were seriously considering executing was the one where we call the Domino's in Price and ordering a large pepperoni and green pepper pizza. And there were no subtle plots associated with that one.

Blackwell had told me that I was having trouble thinking because I'd gotten knocked on the head, and I didn't argue. I was, however, annoyed by that. Which lobe was it that dealt with planning? The parietal? I hadn't been hit in the parietal lobe. Brains. I had always thought that brains were so weird. Who would have thought that all those weird little glands and organs were shoved up the center of their brains? Where the heck had the amygdala come from? Hippocampus? Wasn't that a mythical creature? A hippocampus was a horse-fish, right? Or something. But first it was a thing in the brain. A longish curly thing.

"Ben," said Blackwell, pointing at the phone. Finally. I had mostly been putting off thinking because I really just wanted to call. See how Riley was doing. Maybe notice if they were still driving or not. I dialed. It rang. Someone picked up.

"It's Ben," I said.

"Hello, Ben," said the Chinese man.

"How's Riley?" I asked.

"Why don't you tell me, Ben? It's in his own interest. Whatever it is, you can be sure we won't use it against him."

"No, actually, I can't be sure of that. You've kidnapped Riley and you're going to kill everyone. I don't trust you and I don't know what you're capable of."

"I'll just check his records anyways. May as well make it easy."

"No, I may as well _not _make it easy. Why would I want to make it easy for you?"

"You have a point, given the situation. Ben, I don't hate you personally. You're a good man. Riley's a good kid too, I hold nothing against either of you. We don't see eye to eye and that's unfortunate, but I'm just trying to deal with it." What was he doing? I hated him. Why did he have to act so friendly?

"Let me talk to Riley."

"Sorry, Ben." What?

"Sorry? What do you mean, sorry, is he dead or something?"

"No, he's… he seems to be ok now… I can't let you talk to him though." He sounded almost apologetic. I closed my eyes.

"Why not?"

"Just part of the process. I'm sorry, Ben. Maybe you'll see him again before the end." Now, if _that _wasn't an ominous statement. Before the end. That brought to mind that quote in the Return of the King, "here at the end of all things". Because whenever I thought of 'the end', I thought of that scene. Abi always got teary-eyed at that scene.

"Look," I begged, not knowing where I was going. He was silent on the other end.

"I don't know… what you're doing, or why… but… do you even understand what a bond is? Do you have a wife?"

"No, I don't. But I believe human bonds are weaker than those associated with wilderness. I understand that people think that their human relationships are the most important thing in their life. That's why we're doing this, Ben, that's what's killing us. Humans don't understand their priorities and that's going to lead the Earth to ruin."

"So you're an environmental cult?"

"If you want to be crude, I suppose."

"Look, you just don't understand… you've never experienced what it's like to know someone like I have, like most other humans have. You can't just assume that everyone else on Earth is-"

"Ben, I know. I've thought about this. A lot. I understand you. I've made my choice and you can't change my mind." _No,_ I wanted to tell him, _you don't understand!_ He didn't know what I felt! He'd never loved anyone as much as I love my parents and Abi and Riley. Wasn't love the only thing that mattered? Isn't that what all the philosophy classes told you? Isn't that like the underlying message of anything deep that's ever been written?

Before the end.

What if he succeeded?

What if everyone died?

He had the upper hand at the moment, it was entirely possible. I had no plan whatsoever. There were things I wanted to tell Riley, just in case. Important things.

"Please… let me talk to Riley, just this once. To say goodbye."

"Would you like to talk with Riley, Ben?"

"Well, yes, I would…"

"No? Why not?"

"I said yes, yes I'd like to talk with him." There was a silence on the other end. Was he seriously going to let me talk to him?

"Well, ok, Ben, if you're sure…" he sounded concerned for me. He wasn't handing the phone to Riley.

"What?" was all I could really say. The Chinese man started talking to me again, something about Price, but there was another sound in the background, far away but I knew what it was. Riley's voice. Asking what was going on, why Ben didn't want to talk to him, what was Ben saying.

The Chinese man wasn't quite as friendly as I'd grudgingly thought. He was making Riley think I didn't want to talk to him. Surely Riley would figure it out. There was no reason at all I'd not want to talk to him. But Riley would find one. Look for one. Because I hadn't wanted to talk to him. Had to be a reason for that.

"You son of a bitch," I told the Chinese man, who finished his sentence as if I hadn't said anything.

"Want to give the phone to the Blackwells now, Ben?" Numbly, I handed the phone over. The sound of the Blackwells assuring the Chinese man of their presence fell on deaf ears, fading into the noise of the engine and the air whooshing past.

They were already starting to hurt him. The process. It wasn't fair. I hated them.

"_What's going on?" he asked after I'd shut the phone. I mused. Felt bad about what I was doing, but not bad enough to stop. It was part of the process. It was important to follow the steps._

_"Nothing, Riley."_

_"Why didn't Ben talk to me?"_

_"I offered, but he didn't want to."_

_"Why?" His voice was injured. I paused for effect. Gathered my will and mentally apologized to Riley._

_"Well, he… Never mind."_

_"What?"_

_"I shouldn't tell you." That probably would have been sufficient enough to leave him adequately miserable. He had an active imagination and would come up with something equally as sad as what I'd tell him, or maybe the same story I'd come up with._

_"Please tell me." He didn't really want to hear this, I could tell by his voice. He didn't want to know, but he felt he had to. Good._

_"Ben… Ben thinks this is kind of your fault. And he's a little mad at you." Rear view mirror. I could imagine I could see misery settling heavily onto his spirit through his eyes. _

_"I know it isn't your fault, Riley, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have let you know." I sounded apologetic. It wasn't that hard. Riley hadn't heard me anyways. He slowly sat back in the seat, pushed himself against the door, leaned his head on the window and let his eyes wander absently over the spotty glass of the window. Or focusing beyond the sky. I couldn't really tell. It took a few minutes for emotion to register on his face, and while he tried to push himself further into the corner, away from my gaze, I still saw the tears. Sighing, I left him to his misery. It had worked. It had started. _

They didn't understand why I was so quiet after hanging up. Had I really hoped? Had I really been clinging to the hope that everything would turn out ok? Slight possibility, right? Now that it had started, I knew it was real, I knew they were serious, and I knew they weren't just going to give him some superficial bruises. How far were they going to go… I didn't bother putting a question mark on the end of that. That would make it a question, and then I'd wonder what the answer was.

I was depressed. I forced myself to imagine what Riley was feeling, and after a few minutes I began to sink deeper into misery, and I kind of resented Ben. Ben who thought he was so miserable, Ben who wasn't about to be tortured, Ben who didn't want to talk to me, thought it was my fault we were in this fix. Didn't he understand better than that? Yes, I did. But did Riley?

There was only one way I could tell him the truth. And there was only one way I could save him. And that involved me crawling out of this tarry soup of sadness. But there was no rope for me to hang onto. There was nothing dangling in front of my face for me to grasp. Nothing was even out of my reach. There was nothing. Nothing but Riley, sunken beneath the tar, hanging onto my ankles and pulling me in too. Just an hour ago he had been holding my hand. What had happened?

"Price," pointed Century. A sign whizzed past. 2 miles.

"What are we supposed to do when we get there?"

"Check into the Pricecut."

"Pricecut?"

"Yeah. I'll bet they think it's a really funny name for a hotel." I didn't.

"Then what?"

"They said we'd know."

"Are we getting pizza?"

"Yes," I said decisively. It felt really good to be decisive. It was most definitely pizza time.

"Are we getting lost too?" Why not?

"Sure. Let's get lost for a while. Everyone keep your eyes peeled for important looking details." Around the corner, there was Price. It looked funny, sitting there in the middle of nowhere. Although it wasn't quaint and charming like Henrytown had been. It was too big and too industrial looking,, although there wasn't really anything _industrial_ about it. The buildings were all so grey. Like the funny little grey mountains around us.

"What if there's not a Domino's in Price?"

"They have a pizza place in Price, don't worry." Blackwell sounded as if he knew what he was talking about. He was good at that.

"How do you know?"

"We're in America. They have a pizza place in every city except Henrytown." We were passing some farmland and I wondered what on Earth people were growing out here in the desert. Some little neighborhoods. We came up to an extremely peculiar overpass system.

"This could be where we get lost," I said.

"It could be… thing is, I'm already confused, so we may accidentally take the right route."

"Oh well. Give it a shot." He nodded. Took a left. After a minute I was convinced we'd managed to skirt the whole town altogether, but another branch of the community appeared quite suddenly in front of us, which we drove along the edge of. We ended up near some odd white giant bubble structures, the truly industrial part of Price. Where anyone who ever gets lost inevitably ends up. Turned right. Left. We passed the baseball fields, a strange block of open grass, lots of neighborhood, more industrial activity, and soon found ourselves pleasantly lost, but having a vague idea of the scope of the city. No pizza place yet.

The phone rang. I picked it up.

"Why aren't you three at the hotel yet?" I wanted to yell at him. What he'd done to Riley hit me in the face again – I'd forgotten as we'd driven through Price. That wouldn't do any good, though.

"We're lost. There was a really weird overpass earlier. And we're trying to find some pizza."

"You'll get room service at the hotel and I assure you it won't have any congealed melted cheese or puddles of grease. Which street are you on?"

"We are on… 45th. Approaching Gertrude."

"Turn left, go for about six blocks, turn right, it's on the right. Pricecut."

"Alright. Thanks for saving us."

"Later, Ben." He hung up. I repeated the instructions to Blackwell.

"I bring tidings of good news from Chinese Man, who prophesizes about the glorious lack of congealed melted cheese and puddles of grease that we will find when we reach our destination. We will feast upon the flesh of non-pizza, and it will be good."

"Poor Ben," said Century, patting my shoulder, no doubt blaming it on the lack of aforementioned survival essentials. She was right. Poor me.

There was a parking spot right in front of the hotel, which could be thought of as finally a bit of luck, but I took it as a sign that this hotel was crap and no one wanted to stay there. We all stumbled out of the car, joints stiff, various body parts numb. The hotel really looked terrible. The sign "Pricecut" looked as if it had been glued there by a third-grader, and written on by a four-year-old. Were it not for the circumstances I would have avoided the place on principle. Especially since there was a Radisson across the street. What was a Radisson doing here? There were Radissons in Chicago and Duluth and Honolulu. Not in Price. Well, yes in Price. If I was to believe my eyes, which I usually do.

Into the hotel. The minute I stepped in I knew we weren't really in a hotel. It smelled like melting iron, which also smells like blood, but I preferred thinking about melting iron. There were no carpets or fake plants. No check-in desk. No nice-looking clerks. Just four big men, all wearing plaid flannel shirts. All staring at us.

"Ben and Blackwells?" they asked.

"Yeah. Hi."

"Please follow me," said the man in the purple and brown plaid. We followed him. Was he about to kill us? With trepidation I noticed the handguns all four of them had strapped to their redneck belts. No choice but to follow. He went through a door, down a very scary hallway that lacked any type of interior decoration, stopped.

"Each of you in a separate room." He opened three doors. I peered into one of them. They were like cells. One of them had an old water heater in it.

"Why?" I asked.

"Just following orders. Get in."

"What are you going to do? Are you going to kill us?"

"If you don't get in." He put his hand on his gun, the universal gesture for 'I'm not in the mood for any tomfoolery,' except in different and definitely not PG-13 words.

"Ok, ok, whatever." Four armed and plaid-wearing men against me and two old people. Into the rooms we went. They locked the doors behind us, with a nerve-splintering 'click'. It's not that it was loud, it was just very final. Like a coffin shutting.

"Wait, what about our food? He said you would feed us!" I shouted through the door.

"Ain't dinner time yet," one of them responded, sounding completely serious. Well, it was only… what time _was _it? There were no windows. A light switch? Yes. I turned on the light. The water heater lurked ominously in the corner. Some pipes stood out from the ceiling like grey varicose veins. I felt like I was imprisoned in the chest cavity of a dead alien. One of the grey ones. I may as well have been in X-Files. I wouldn't be Mulder, though. He would have figured out what was going on by now. And what to do. If Riley had been Mulder's sidekick instead of mine everything would have been fine.

_They didn't call for the next hourly check-up. Finnegan had called instead. Said they were all three safely locked up. I could finally stop worrying about that issue. They'd been scoping out the town, I knew, and they may have a small sense of their bearings, but now it didn't matter. Now Finn had taken down that 'Pricecut' sign and the building was once again an old abandoned building that no one used, except the drunks and the kids. But now there were guards in flannel shirts. Everyone would assume they were the drunks and hopefully the building would be left alone. _

_Riley had fallen asleep, sagging against the car door, arms crossed over his middle. It hadn't taken him too long to gain control over what I knew must have been overwhelming feelings, of abandonment and hopelessness and helplessness. He probably felt like a shell right now. Almost. Experienced the emptiness. I'd felt that before. I'd had somewhere to turn, though. Riley was trapped. I felt uncomfortable putting someone through a process that I'd never experienced myself, but it was necessary._

_Here we were. Finally. I didn't like the little city, but this is where we were based for this operation. Bigger than Henrytown but not by much, we had soon passed all the farm fields and were in the heart of the place. Approaching the northern end I pulled over into an empty spot, gathered my things, stepped out of the car. The guard in back got out, locking his door. Together we approached Riley's door. I slowly opened it, Riley's head following it open for a second before he jerked awake._

_"We're there. Come on," I said. He crawled out of the car, not bothering to stretch. Personally, long car rides killed my back, and I did my best not to wince as we approached the door. I wasn't even that old yet. And I never would be. I should be grateful I wasn't going to allow my back to get any worse than it already was. _

_The guard laid a hand on Riley's shoulder, nonverbally telling him not to run. Riley didn't appear too enthusiastic with moving at all, eyes glued to the ground. Were they even open? I couldn't see. We entered the building, familiar smells wafting around me. That weird organic food smell. Dry beans and dehydrated vegetables, essential oils. I wrinkled my nose at the hint of clove oil. I could never stand clove oil. Riley's eyes still at the ground, he allowed us to guide him to the back storage room, through a door, where there were no lights on. The smell was leaving now. His head came up and he started to take notice of his surroundings, if not sluggishly. Worry in his eyes._

_Through one of two doors that branched from this room, down a set of stairs with a ceiling low enough to endanger only the guard's head. Turning left at the bottom, I had to search around with my hands for the right doorknob. There were no light bulbs at this level. I didn't permit them. The door clicked open and I entered first, hearing Riley's breath coming faster through the intense silence. No sound pierced these walls either. Specially sound-proofed. Chill air surrounded us in the darkness and silence and I longed suddenly to leave the rest to the guard, let him deal with what was to come. I didn't really want to be a part of it, and yet my role was essential. I had planned it, after all. _

_I reached to my left, felt along the wall. My hand encountered something hard and awkwardly shaped hanging from a nail, and I took hold of it, slipped the contraption over my face. These things had been damned expensive, they'd better be of good use. I messed with some knobs and it made some odd clicking noises, but I was familiar with the sounds. I had made sure I knew what I was doing. _

_Vision._

_I could see three bodies in front of me. The guard next to me had found his pair of thermographic goggles. Riley's blue and yellow and red form was backing away in confusion, hearing the strange sounds of our goggles but not seeing anything. The guard reached out and grabbed his shoulders. Riley almost seemed content with knowing there was someone behind him, but still held his hands slightly out in front of him, as if expecting something to come out of the darkness and do something to him. _

_He was right. _

_He couldn't see Tomas approaching because Tomas had, as the elementary school teachers are so fond of calling them, marshmallow feet. He could creep up on anybody. It was even eerie to me, watching Tomas walk towards us, fists curling and uncurling, blue, yellow, blue, yellow. What I knew to be brown hair was ultraviolet, dangling over his shoulders, hanging around his goggles. He had been awaiting our arrival, probably sitting in the corner salivating over this opportunity, now he was slinking towards Riley, why? So intent on scaring the kid. Tomas couldn't just do it without terrifying him any more than he already was._

_I didn't understand Tomas either. He was like Jeremy times ten. I had the sudden urge to jump in front of Riley and protect him, tell him to run. But I was the one who had planned this. It was necessary. Necessary. Tomas was the only one to do it, right? I grimaced to myself as Tomas's hands reached out for Riley, who was completely oblivious, that is until he felt the iron clamp of Tomas's wiry fingers on his lower arms. _

_Was I doing the right thing? This is what Tomas lived for. _

_Riley gasped, struggled. His bluish arms flashed through the purple surroundings, trying to rip loose from the unknown attacker. Tomas was too strong. The guard let go of Riley and Tomas wound one arm around Riley's neck, flipped Riley over and threw his sense of balance. Riley was trying to speak but no words would come out, no air for them to form. He was asking what was going on, what were we going to do, who was this new threat, where were they taking him, where's Ben?_

_"Goodbye, Riley," I said, my voice gentle. "You're going to be ok." That was more of an obligatory phrase, to get my voice in his head one last time. I hoped it was a guarantee. _

_I watched Tomas drag Riley across the shadowy purple room, over to the large shed-shaped box sitting in the corner, drinking in all color around it, watched as Tomas wrenched open the door and shoved Riley into complete blackness, as Riley hit the ground hard, struggled to get back up and find the way out, but Tomas slammed the door shut._

_Riley was trapped inside the only true darkness these contraptions on our faces could show us._

_I was sickened. I stormed out the door, ripping off the thermographic imaging goggles, truth-tellers, hanging them up. I was up the stairs, through the hallways, out on the street in the sunshine. It wasn't warm but at least there was sunlight. It was warm compared to some places I could be at the moment. _

**Do you get everything that happened in this chapter? I didn't want to make it too obvious but sometimes I'm too vague. So Ben and co. really haven't planned anything yet but I kind of know how things will fall together… for a while, at least. It may involve kind of ignoring Ben and co. for now. Bork. Oh, and I know nothing about thermovision goggle things or if they exist. I was going to do night vision, but for various rather important reasons I decided on these handy thermo thingies! **


	10. Chapter 10

**Hopefully this chapter clears up any confusion as to the previous situation… again, if anyone has any questions, ask away, I'll answer them. Unless I plan on answering them later. **

**I'm going to see what it's like being Riley for a while. The Blackwells and Ben being momentarily incapacitated and all. I'm not planning on doing very much from Riley's POV, but tell me what you think of it if you review, please. Riley's voice really doesn't fit who he is, I know, so I'm going to have to work on that character. Riley's a lot easier to write **_**about **_**than he is to write **_**from.**_** To me. **

**Everyone who likes angst, (me included, guilt or not), don't be offended by the first part here! I don't understand why people like it either but it isn't a flame against all you angsty people. It's just Riley being bitter. **

**And then I get into religion and such… don't be offended by anything, I'm not expressing my personal views in any way here. **

**The Randomist – I'm very amused that you thought that paragraph was so funny. It didn't really sit well with me at first and I almost deleted it, but I'm glad I didn't! **

**Thuraya Known – Thanks again for such an awesome review! You notice so much and I really appreciate your feedback! Yes, I suppose what they're doing to Riley is a sort of mind game… I really enjoyed writing that paragraph you mentioned, I'm glad you liked it too! **

**Oh, and look, I'm labeling my POV's now… woooo…**

**Disclaimer! They're not mine, der ritt de gitt der gue, bork bork. **

**Riley**

Back in the days of yore when I used to go to high school, I was lucky enough to be in the presence of two or three people who didn't think I was a complete and utter nerd. Well, they did, but they didn't mind. Unfortunately they were all girls, which kind of made me look like a pansy. And I didn't even like pansies. They smelled funny. But these friends of mine – they were Star Wars freaks. Specifically Luke Skywalker freaks. Of all the interesting guys that surround them in reality (like me) they had to have a crush on Luke Skywalker, sterling example of the ideal hero.

Back then I'd heard tell of a magical website called It was a place where everyone who's wildest wishes didn't come true in whatever they were watching or reading could write them down and publish them. I visited the site once or twice, trying to figure out what was so great about the Star Wars 'fan fictions' that my friends kept going on about, and I soon learned that I hated fan fiction. The writers didn't seem to realize that there was a _reason_ certain things don't happen in the movies, and I told my friends that all those writers out there who think their ideas are so great are, in fact, ignoring the sociological perspective granted by taking into consideration _why_ the plot was the way it was, _why _this character had died or _why_ these characters weren't in love. Possibly one of the most intelligent things I'd ever said.

"Riley, you dumbass," they'd said to me. "They're just being creative." Whatever. As far as I was concerned, sadism wasn't creative, sadism was sadism. I say this because the overwhelming majority of the fics I read had some bloody or violent torture scene, kidnapping plot, angst flying everywhere like black snow. Angst, angst, angst. The Declaration of Independence says that all men have the right to the pursuit of happiness, not the pursuit of angst, and you'd think if it said that, more people would be happy with the relative lack of angst that one finds in any normal book or movie. Or maybe they derive happiness _with_ the pursuit of angst.

I didn't really get it.

I was going to count the number of fictions involving Luke being kidnapped and trucked around the galaxy, or Han Solo being tortured out of his mind. I gave up when I hit sixty-eight, because, well, it was a waste of time.

And the funny thing was, the more angst there was, generally the more reviews there were.

So this wasn't just a bunch of individual diabolical feelings, this was a cult of angsty Star Wars fans. That claimed to love the characters, but took the greatest pleasure in putting their absolute favorite person through pure hell. It would have been a great study in sociology. Unfortunately I dropped that class after the first three weeks because I could never stay awake for the entire two hours. There had been many an after-school-party-in-the-computer-pod, me practicing my developing hacking skills, them reading their fan fictions. I had watched them sometimes, partly to see their reactions, but mostly because one of them was particularly pretty. And time and again a smile would break out onto their face, hand would fly to their mouths, and while they looked delighted they had also looked concerned. A look I'd probably have on my face if I saw a skateboarder take a fall while skidding down a railing and not quite landing on either side in particular. Sad, but very funny.

I'd asked them what they were grinning about. And I didn't understand their answers. I didn't think it was 'fun to read'. I thought it was sad and weird.

Idly, I'd wondered if I would have gotten more attention from them if _I'd _been kidnapped and tortured. I used to muse about that.

Well, here I was. I was locked in what appeared to be a walk-in freezer. Mind you, it wasn't exactly 'freezing', but it was cold enough. I was shivering. And it was dark. I wouldn't call it 'pitch' black, really, because that implies that there was a _substance_ to the darkness. It was more of a 'vacuum' black. Like in space. Were it not for the floor I sat upon I would have felt like I was floating through cold, empty space. I didn't want to lean against the walls because they were metal, obviously cold. I couldn't hear anything but by own breathing, and my heartbeat. Usually when people say they could hear only the sound of their heartbeat, that's just a way to say how quiet it is. Most people can't actually hear their heartbeat. But I could. I imagine it had something to do with the fact that I had a mild concussion, I had a pretty much continuous headache, and my body was dealing with sumatriptan, faux atomoxitine, and something else I couldn't remember the name of. And my blood pressure and pulse were no doubt through the roof. What were they going to do to me? I didn't know. I had a bad feeling about the way the Chinese man hadn't denied my prediction that I'd be brainwashed. And I really didn't like how that other guy that had appeared out of nowhere had grabbed me so roughly. It hadn't hurt but the shock of being grabbed like that after I'd been treated relatively well…

I began thinking about how my situation would have attracted a lot of fan girls. Except my life wasn't a movie and nobody really knew who I was, except Blackwell, who'd read my book. Would I even want the attention of anyone who thought my current predicament was even slightly entertaining? Heck no. Who would have guessed that all those innocent fan girls out there were actually sadistic monsters. I didn't think anything about this was funny. Or entertaining. It was scary and any fan that thought these things were entertaining was wrong and needed to learn how to step into the victim's shoes.

What was I thinking, of course they didn't think that. Fiction was different than real life, everybody knew that.

I wished I could see something.

I was scared. And cold. Worried about Ben. Did he really think that about me? It wasn't my fault we were like this, it wasn't my fault I had CFS and had gotten my medication from Good Earth. Wasn't my fault I had cluster headaches. The thought that maybe the Chinese man had lied to me to make me sad had passed briefly through my mind, but the Chinese man seemed so… well, nice. And what if he _wasn't _lying? I had no way of knowing. There would always be that gnawing dread that Ben really was mad at me. It was just easier to believe it. Why? I don't know, I'd dropped psychology too.

Why was I even thinking about fan fictions anyways? I had no fans. None. Ben didn't even care about me. No, no, he cared… I thought. He hadn't wanted to talk to me though. All I had been wishing for was a chance to talk to Ben, hear his voice, know that he was still there and there was someone out there who cared I was in danger. But he didn't want to talk to me.

I slammed my hands down on the hard metal. Ben hadn't said that. The Chinese man had said that Ben had said no… the coldness was slowing my thoughts but I was fairly certain I had that right… the doubt, though, what if… ?

_The Chinese Man_

_Half an hour had gone by. It was time to visit Riley. Though I didn't like the neat little main street with its neat little rows of basswood and crabapples, I'd still rather be under the sky than under the ceiling of a building. Than in a freezer. Sighing, I made my way back through the bright fluorescent lights and past the cashier, who didn't look at me, into the back room, down the stairs, across the hall, into the large, dark room containing the cold prison. My hands found the lump on the wall that would provide my vision for this ordeal. I strapped it on my face, peered around at the now ultraviolet room, and at the black cube of empty space in the corner. I made sure the door was securely shut and locked behind me before taking out the key. I knew it wasn't so but as I approached the darkness I felt as though the air was getting colder and emptier. _

_I knocked first. I didn't want to startle him. _

_He might attack me, I thought. If he heard the knock he'd be waiting to lunge at the space where there should be a person standing, once I opened it. There was no sound in response to my knock, so I opened the door, standing aside._

_I needn't have bothered. Riley's colorful body was a mass of indiscernible limbs knotted into a ball of blue and yellow and orange – I didn't see any red. From what I could tell he was hunched over his knees, arms around his head. He didn't look up at my entrance. _

_"Riley, it's me," I said, hoping that was some sort of comfort to him, that it wouldn't make him scared. I wasn't there to frighten him. That wasn't my job. I knelt on the floor next to him, feeling the icy metal underneath my knees starting to chill my skin. Put my hand on his shoulder. He drew back slightly from the touch but it wasn't much of an effort. _

_"What's wrong?" What WAS wrong? He'd done this in the car, too, rocking back and forth, moaning to himself. He didn't seem like he wanted to speak. _

_"Come on, get up, Riley, we're going outside for a moment. Outside of this box." I had thought that that would at least earn me a response, but there was none. Hoping he wouldn't finally attack me, I planted my left arm around his shoulders and took his right arm in mine, hoisting him onto his feet. He didn't attack me, but he did pull away once he was standing, instead leaning against the icy wall._

_"Riley, did you hear me? Let's leave for a moment. I'll guide you." I took his shoulders again and he let me steer him to the door, stumbling every other step. It seemed to me that he just wanted to sit back down. Once we were out of the black space I led him to the far wall of this basement._

_"You can sit now," I murmured, and he did a slow-motion collapse onto the floor, ending in the position I'd found him in when I'd entered the freezer. I decided to wait. If this was what had happened in the car, it would be over soon enough. _

_Mother of all, I hoped he'd cooperate. Once I explained everything maybe he'd see it our way. Or at least pretend to. That would be good enough for me, as long as he got the job done. _

_A sound in the corner. Tomas had entered through the back door. He slept back there. The man was like a cave creature, I barely knew what he looked like in the light. It was like he wanted to be as close as possible, in case his services were needed. I cursed the fact that I hadn't hired him personally. Finn, I'd said, go hire me a hit-man, I don't want to be the one to do this job. Ok, boss, I know just the guy. And he did. If Tomas couldn't do this right no one could. Riley was either going to cooperate or die. We were all going to die soon enough, so I suppose it didn't matter. _

_The man just stood there, staring at us. He was waiting for me to be done. His assumption angered me. No, it was the fact that he obviously just didn't care about Riley that angered me. It angered me that I seemed to care about Riley, but I wasn't going to let that get in the way of my job. I was dazed by Tomas, all he wanted to do was hurt people. What a case. I'd made it quite clear that he wasn't going to put Riley's life in danger, he just needed to complete the minimum requirements of the process. I would have to keep my eye on him, though. He had that crazed glint in his eyes, the few times I ever saw his eyes. _

_"Not yet, Tomas. I haven't even spoken to him." At my voice, Riley rose his head a bit, trying to stare into the darkness, but of course he couldn't see that Tomas's form hadn't moved. Dare I anger Tomas? Wouldn't he then just take out his anger on Riley later on? I let it go. Riley had pulled himself to the wall and was leaning against it, gazing blankly ahead. I crouched in front of him._

_"So, want to tell me what that was?"_

_"No." I let a moment of silence to grow between us. Let him hear the impracticality of his response._

_"Riley, if it's dangerous, let me know. Our aim isn't to kill you." He scoffed._

_"Right. You're going to kill everyone else and spare me." Another silence._

_"How much do you know?" I asked._

_"I know nothing. Leave me alone."_

_"What just happened?"_

_"When?"_

_"Just now. To you."_

_"I was kidnapped and thrown into a dark, creepy freezer."_

_"Riley!" I snapped. He drew back a bit. I tried to soften my voice._

_"I'm trying to make this easier for you. If you want that, just tell me what's going on."_

_"There's nothing going on."_

_"Riley-"_

_"And even if there were I wouldn't tell you."_

_"This isn't going as I'd hoped."_

_"Well I am _so _sorry."_

_"I'm giving you an option here. Listen. Forget what's happening to you, I get it, you won't tell me. Fine." I wished he wasn't being so hostile, but had I really expected anything different? Not expected, no, but hoped. Riley was listening. _

_"You cooperate, nothing happens to you. I really want you to cooperate because I don't want you to be hurt."_

_"Why?" He asked it so blatantly, so innocently, as if it was a simple question that deserved a simple answer. _

_"I can't just… Riley, I'm not an evil bastard like you think I am."_

_"Are you gay?" I closed my eyes, trying to tame my frustration. Well, it wasn't a bad question, really. I suppose he had the right to be worried about that._

_"No, Riley, I'm not gay. I am in no way interested in you, _except _for your exceptional hacking skills. That's all I'm after."_

_"Surely there's another more worthy than I." Riley-the-smart-ass was making an appearance. _

_"There's not, believe me. Or at least none that we could find. I'm going to explain our belief system now, and I want you to listen carefully. Think about this, ok?" _

_"No, I don't want to hear about your belief system. I don't like your belief system, I like _my _belief system."_

_"What's your belief system?" I smiled to myself. I had caught him off guard. He wasn't expecting that and how he struggled for words. Hopefully this would make him realize that he didn't, in fact, _like _his belief system, it was just all he ever had._

_"What do you mean?"_

_"I mean tell me all of your core beliefs. What do you believe in?" He hesitated. I saw the muscles on his forehead knit together, making vague hand gestures in the air, giving up. _

_"I'm not going to tell you," he decided. What did that mean? He didn't know, or he really didn't want to tell me? _

_"Ok, Riley, that's fine. Just listen to me, though."_

_"Fire away, chief. Do your worst." _

_"I know you love the Earth, Riley. Laudes told us what you said at the rest stop. You seem to be quite fond of this place." No response._

_"I wish I knew to what level you loved it though. Our group is dedicated to saving the Earth."_

_"So what's wrong with joining the Sierra Club or Greenpeace?"_

_"True environmentalists see the solution to the problem everyone sees but doesn't try to fix. Humans are a cancer to the Earth and they have to be-"_

_"Annihilated?" _

_"Well… crudely, yes. The Earth needs to recover from what we've done. If we're granted forgiveness we'll come back someday, hopefully start with a clean slate."_

_"Come back?"_

_"Evolution. Another dominant species will take our place."_

_"Dude, Earth will be gone by then. The sun isn't going to sit there while we re-evolve." At least he was thinking about the possibility._

_"There'll be time. You realize that humans only evolved in the past 17 million years, and the Earth is around four and a half billion years old. The sun has another four and a half billion years ahead of it as well, although life on Earth will only be possible for the next 900 million years or so. That leaves plenty of time for a new dominant species."_

_"Um… you've done your research."_

_"Yes, I have."_

_"But what about the dinosaurs? They weren't nearly as… intelligent… as humans. What makes you think another species like humans are going to come along?"_

_"We can only hope none will. Humans ravaged their home."_

_"Ok, ok… well… don't you think there's an easier way to go about this? I mean, isn't killing everyone a little unnecessary?" _

_"It's not the 'easier' way, Riley, it's just the only practical way. Humans are all way too engrained in their cultures for any hope anymore. It would be impossible for every human to suddenly up and start living in such a way that won't affect Earth. Impossible. There's too many of us."_

_"Well… I mean, killing everyone…" I hadn't expected him to even try to think about our position, so this was good news. He wasn't totally opposed. Or else he was so opposed he couldn't just let the issue sit. "Don't take this as me agreeing or anything, because I don't and I think its complete flummery, but why can't you just tone down the population? Not wipe everyone out? I mean, without humans, you don't get any art or music or anything… that makes us human."_

_"That's kind of our point."_

_"No it's not, you're just trying to get rid of the destructiveness. Music and art don't harm anyone."_

_"Music and art, while they're fine and dandy, don't serve the Earth."_

_"Well…So? Maybe nature directed our evolution so we could experience music and art."_

_"Again, that doesn't serve the Earth in any way."_

_"Why does it have to? Don't you think of the Earth as your mother? Does your relationship with your mother have to be completely reciprocal?" This was getting a bit deeper than I expected, but that was fine with me. I thought about my answer. I couldn't show him I had any doubts about anything or he'd cling to my hesitation. _

_"You're giving the Earth human characteristics. For a truly balanced and harmonious relationship, that's how our interactions with Earth should have been."_

_"Can't you give us another chance, though? Like, wipe out all our power sources and electricity? You'd still have your mass genocide, and those resourceful enough to live through it might learn their lesson."_

_"No, they wouldn't. They're humans. Besides, those that were resourceful enough to live through it would probably be all the greedy, power-hungry ones." He didn't respond. I stared at him in expectation._

_"I really hope you aren't staring at me in expectation," he said._

_"Why not?"_

_"Don't think I agree with any of this."_

_"Why not?" _

_"Well… because… I just don't! This is so against my ethics."_

_"Against what you've been raised to think. You can't deny it's a good idea."_

_"It's a bad idea. Killing everyone is definitely a bad idea."_

_"Why is it such a bad idea?"_

_"Because there are good people out there! How would you feel if you killed Gandhi and Martin Luther King?"_

_"What were they preaching?"_

_"Peace, man, they wanted world peace!"_

_"Through religion."_

_"Whatever, they preached peace! What can possibly be bad about peace?"_

_"Riley, there is no higher being other than the spirit of the Earth."_

_"You're saying… you… no, look, I don't care what you think about higher beings, these people wanted _peace._ They didn't care what religion everyone was, they tried to fix our world through harmonious action and-"_

_"Hopeless cases. There can be no true harmony if we don't take care of the Earth, and they didn't make the well-being of the Earth their highest priority."_

_"Would you just step outside your box for a second, please, and realize that what you think is _your _opinion? There are other people out there that have beliefs just as strong as yours, but you don't see them killing everyone!"_

_"Killing everyone isn't a light task, Riley, but we just happen to have the means to do it. If you do what we ask."_

_"Forget it."_

_"You're asking for hell, Riley." His head leaned back against the wall._

_"Dude, I'm not going to help you kill everyone." Resignation, sadness, uncertainty in his voice. I wished he understood. I wished I could just show him the truth, some magical evidence or piece of wisdom that would convince him to help us. I had no such thing. I hadn't told him very much but I'd asked him. I'd gained insight into what his beliefs were and how firm they were. There was nothing else I could do._

_"Riley, please." _

_"No," he said, more of a sob. He knew he was in trouble and it impressed me he was still willing to stand up to what he thought was right. It was admirable and it disturbed me that I'd have to destroy him now. _

_I looked back up to Tomas, still standing there in his doorway, the Lurker at the Threshold – not as frightening in appearance as a Lovecraftian creation, perhaps, but the implications of his presence in the current situation were just as horrifying, perhaps even more so, than what the writer could ever conjure. _

_Why had I thought that? It was Riley that was going to suffer now, not me. I was way too attached to him. Why the hell was I so attached to him? I wasn't attached. I just felt evil doing this. It was necessary though. _

_"Remember my voice, Riley," I said gently, then stood and walked to the exit. He didn't move until he heard Tomas approaching from the other side; he pulled his limbs closer into himself, looked in the direction of Tomas but saw nothing_

"_Who… What's going on? Chinese guy, where'd you go?" Now the panic was setting in, it appeared. No-one was responding to him and he couldn't hear anything moving anymore because Tomas had marshmallow feet. _

"_What's going on?" he pleaded again, trying to make himself tiny and maybe slip into a crack in the cement wall. There were no cracks in any of these walls though. Trying to be small, maybe then whoever was coming to get him wouldn't see him. I could imagine his terror, shaking in the dark, no idea what was about to happen, what was going on, where that mean guy that had grabbed him earlier was, but he knew that whatever followed would be horrible. Waiting for it was probably just as bad. _

_Time to start up the crudely cut steps of the beginning stages, time to start hacking away at Riley Poole until he no longer knew who he was. They made assault on identity sound so easy. _

­­­­­

**So that was a bunch of thick dialogue, I hope it was readable. I guess the Riley angst truly and finally starts next chapter. I hope Ben doesn't die while I let him sit and fester in his cell back in Price… he's kind of stuck at the moment. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Sooooooo here we go. **

**Disclaimer: I disclaim. Yo disclaimo. I'm sure that was erroneous. **

Ben

I would have preferred puddles of grease on pizza than whatever this stuff was. It looked dangerously healthy and it tasted like sauerkraut. I'd never even _had _sauerkraut but I knew I didn't like it. Especially if this is what sauerkraut tasted like. I think the guy had called it vegetable soup but I didn't recognize any of the contents as vegetables. Sauerkraut wasn't a vegetable. Perhaps one day it had been a vegetable, but no more. Who put sauerkraut in soup?

The funny thing was, when they had opened the door to give me the non-pizza, I had been welcomed with this scene; first guy was holding out a bowl of putrescence, second guy was aiming a gun at me with one hand and holding a donut in the other. Not quite pizza, but enough to heighten the rift between captor and captive. Not that they cared. Although they should. Nobody was Ben Gates' captor and lived to tell about it. I was going to break down the door with a well-aimed kick, put the first guy in a full nelson and use him as a human shield as the other guy let bullets pour from his muzzle. The gun would run out and I'd throw the bloody body to the ground, leap over him, duck the first punch, come up with an upper cut that'd knock the man's teeth out, smash his nose straight into his brain. By then the other two goons would have a pretty good idea that I wasn't the right man to mess with. They'd give me the keys, I'd let the Blackwells out, we'd ask where Riley was, and of course they'd tell us because I'd be glaring menacingly at them. We'd leave them there shaking in their pants and be on our way to rescuing Riley and saving the world.

There were thirteen distinct flaws in that plan, fourteen if you counted on me tripping over the dead body as I attempted to leap over it. There was a fair chance of that, especially since if I ever did get that far, my ankle would most likely be broken from kicking the door down, which was impossible anyways.

Besides, if I was going to attack anyone, I should have done it while the door was open. It was shut now. Shut and locked.

Why was there such a heavy door on a room like this? There was a water heater in here, a few pipes, some outlets, and a very filthy drain in the center of the room. The ground was made of rough cement, uneven and generally sloping downwards to the drain. Walls of the same material.

I knew it was hopeless.

How many times had I told myself it was hopeless in the last day? How many times had I dwelled in the improbability of anything working out for the better? How many times had I ignored that tiny spark of hope that came with liberty? As long as we were free there was hope, we could conceivably do something. But now that we were locked up, well, it was hopeless. Truly and terribly.

Why, then, did I choose to hope? Now of all times, not back in the car when I'd been putting off planning when there was still a chance for us? Maybe because right now I knew, for certain, that there was no hope and that thought would drive me insane. Before this I had known, whether I was aware of the knowledge or not, that there were options. But now I had to pretend in order to preserve my mind.

No, no, no. Of course there was still hope. I just couldn't grasp it at the moment. My mind was befuddled. I needed sleep. The little winks I'd gotten in the car had made my mind foggier than before. Now, though, I could sleep. We were being held here to get us out of the way. No one was going to come in here to bug me. I could sleep. Well, I could if my mind would let me. It was reeling. As would be expected for someone whose charge it was to save the world, and his best friend. And who was incapacitated. Could do nothing.

Maybe if I convinced myself, even momentarily, that it was ok to sleep. Make the guilt take a little vacation and let me rest. Haha. Like that would happen. As if I could put any of this to rest. The world was going to end soon if I didn't do something and Riley was probably being tortured as I spoke.

Well, no, the world wasn't going to end all that soon. They didn't have all the kinks worked out yet, and they still needed Riley's skills. The soonest anything would happen would be in maybe a week, right? If you're going to kill everyone you have to make sure you do it right, they weren't about to jump into this. That left me a little time. What was a few hours of sleep?

Riley. Even if the world wasn't about to end, Riley was being hurt. I thought. Well, the Chinese man had basically said that. They couldn't tell me that they weren't going to hurt him. What had I told Riley to do? Help them? Or not? My own scales were so tipsy on the subject. At the moment I didn't think it was that big of a deal if Riley helped them, if nothing was going to happen for at least another week. That gives me plenty of time to escape, right? A week? Riley could tell them. There'd be no harm. He'd be ok. He was a smart kid too, he knew what was best.

I just needed a few hours of sleep. Enough to clear the mind for tomorrow.

**Riley**

I didn't even have the chance to collect my thoughts about what had just happened, what I'd said, what he'd said, what I'd sentenced myself to. That same rough grip took hold of me before I could even react with anything but a cry of shock, had whipped me around and to my feet before my neurons could even tell my limbs to struggle. This guy was faster than the speed of neurotransmitters. That was a bit unsettling. His wiry arm was once again stuck between my neck and my mandible, pressing into my throat, blocking my air pipe. I didn't feel the urge to make any more sound, though. There was no-one to listen, at least no-one who cared.

The guy behind me didn't feel all that much taller or broader than I. Well, he was, because it was kind of hard for a human male to not be bigger than me. But his size didn't match his strength. I felt like his body was made of tightly coiled bridge cord, each string of metal made up of dozens of smaller ones, and so on. Rough, rock-hard, he even smelled like metal. Like blood, actually. It was hard to tell the two smells apart.

We entered the freezer once again, I could tell by the drop in temperature. He dumped me on the ground, or rather shoved me into the ground. I didn't stand back up because I didn't want to be knocked back down, and I had no doubt that I was about to be beaten senseless.

I suspected that these people saw with night vision goggles, maybe. But it was so dark. That made no sense. Whatever it was, though, maybe I could knock it from their face, break it. We'd be on even footing then. Except this guy was made of metal and there was a high probability that I would hurt myself more than I'd hurt him should I decide to attack him, even if he miraculously decided to not retaliate.

Something soft hit me in the head. I cringed, delayed response of the expectation of being hit with something hard. What had that been?

"Your new clothes. Put them on." New clothes?

"I don't need new clothes." He kicked me. The end of what must have been a steel-toed boot drove itself in between the ribs on my side with the force of a wrecking ball. The shock of the occurrence threw me more than the actual pain, which just tells you how shocking it was, because that _really _hurt.

"Fine! Clothes! Ok!" I gasped. The side of my head exploded in blunt, pressurized pain as his fist knocked into my temple. Just as I started to wonder what that one was for, he answered.

"No talking. Change your clothes." No talking? That was going to be impossible. Already I felt a witty retort trying to come popping through my now tightly sealed lips. I sure wished things would stop assaulting my head.

Changing in the dark is weird enough. I didn't know which article of clothing was which, and when I finally figured that part out it took a while to discover which side was front and back on the shirt and pants. There were no tags. Now, add the fact that someone was _watching _me as I puzzled through this – that's the weird part. Was he staring at me or was he being polite and turning away? Who was I kidding, he was watching. He could be hovering over me, for all I knew.

And what the heck, this shirt had nothing on it. No pockets, no zippers, no buttons, no anything. What's more, it was short-sleeved. If this guy took away my ecki-ecki jacket I was going to freeze. At least these things weren't like hospital clothing and were made of paper. I think I would have preemptively died.

I pulled on the pants, which were too big, and felt around for my jacket. Where had I left it? Right beside me. I was probably turned around. I searched around further with my hands, feeling like a blind man. I _was _a blind man now.

A monster wrapped its giant hand around my torso and threw me against the wall – I hit with a resounding _wannnggg_, cold walls vibrating with the impact. I cursed in my head, feeling the back of my scalp for blood. Had Tomas really done that? Was he a machine or something? I shielded as much of myself as I could with my arms, curling into a ball. Nothing happened. For a moment I dared to wonder whether he'd left, but I knew he hadn't. I definitely would have heard the door open and close. So I was left with that creepy feeling you get when you're trying to sleep except you feel like there's something in the room with you. Except I most definitely _wasn't _trying to sleep, and I knew for sure there was someone in the room with me. Someone with terrible intentions. I felt like vomiting.

Something came whipping out of nowhere and stung my face. Of course it was Tomas, he had slapped me, of all things. What was I, his bitch? I was thankful I hadn't said that one out loud. I found it a little funny that whenever anything touched me in here I didn't immediately associate it with Tomas.

It felt so weird not being able to hide, here in the darkness where I couldn't see anything. I wished I could just crawl into a corner where he couldn't find me, but he could see everything. He could see me. Where I was. What I was doing.

"Riley Poole," came his voice again. Had it really been that sleek before? It sounded as if he were smiling. I wished I could see.

"Speak only when I ask you to. Don't move unless I tell you to." I sat silent. Not that I felt terribly inclined to do as he said, I just didn't see the point of resisting.

"I'd hate you right now if I were Ben," he said. I heard his shoes walking over to the right of me. I flinched away. Why was he saying that?

"You've made a royal mess of the situation. If it weren't for you no-one would have realized you two were even in Utah. That you were on the case, even. You and Ben would have been on your merry way to saving the world right now. But here you are and now Ben's got to worry about you _and _the rest of the world. You've made it so hard for him!" He stopped talking. He was trying to guilt me. I wasn't going to let it work.

"You know where he is?" asked a sharp voice to my left, totally surprising me, making me jump. I scooted a foot away because it sounded as if Tomas's mouth had been an inch from my ear. His hand came crashing into my chest, knocking the wind from my lungs, collapsing them and paralyzing them. I hated being winded. As I gasped for breath he continued.

"He's sitting in a cell, just like you. He could be out saving the world, but thanks to you and your _special needs, _he's trapped. And the Blackwells! You had to drag them into this too! Needed a doctor, couldn't just deal with whatever was going on. You pansy. Garrison and his sweet old wife area both locked in cells too. They're totally innocent." If I had to keep biting my tongue I'd draw blood soon. Tomas's voice was once again right in my ear and it took all of my control not to jerk away. His breath smelled like rancid meat infested with squirming insects and his voice was like a monstrous mosquito threatening to stick its long saw mouth into my ear. I squeezed my eyes shut. How long would this go on? My nerves were twitching with adrenaline, my body wanted to escape. Mind over body. It was harder than it sounded.

_"Are you listening to me?"_ he roared in my ear. I felt like I was in boot camp. Should I speak? Wouldn't he hit me? Too late, and his taught-wire hands were wrapped around my arm, twisting, I felt my elbow straining.

"Ok, ok, ok, I didn't know you wanted me to talk, yes, I'm listening! Stop!" He gave a brutal wrench and I felt something rip and pop in my elbow joint, warm pain beginning to emanate up and down my arm.

"And when you do talk, don't be a babbling idiot. Let's try again. Are you listening to me?"

"Yeah." My brain couldn't even come up with a witty retort for me to bite my tongue over. It was wondering if my elbow would ever work again. Had he broken it? I didn't think so. I drew my arms around my middle, pathetic attempt to keep them safe. Hadn't I just been using them to shelter my body a minute ago?

"Tell me what I've told you." Great, I had to recap. I'd never been good at those. I knew this was just supposed to make me think about his words more, and I could resist the guilt for sure, so I did.

"You told me I sh-" Fist in the gut, gasping for air like a sucker fish thrown onto the ice in January.

"Tell it like it is, pansy. Don't tell me that I told you, I already know that. Tell the truth." Truth? What? My mind was deprived of oxygen, what did he mean? Oh, wait, I knew. I connected the dots. Just to make him happy, ok, I'd lie to myself.

"I should feel guilty because it's my fault we're in this situation. If it wasn't for me Ben could have done something useful by now. If it wasn't for me Ben and the Blackwells wouldn't be in cells."

"You're forgetting something essential, pansy."

"Oh, and I'm a pansy."

"Why?"

"Ben took me to a doctor. That automatically makes me a pansy." Oh, no, I thought, before the blow even came. That one slipped from my mouth without me even knowing it was coming. He knocked my head back and into the wall. I wanted to shout at the wall and his fist and that chunk of ceiling and the atomoxitine, _stop beating up my head, dammit, it hurts_, but I'm fairly certain my 'mild' concussion saved me the effort. I fell over sideways and passed out, thinking about how many times I'd passed out in the last day or so, and if that made me a pansy.

**Ben**

Why was the ground so hard and cold? My hands swept over them sleepily, feeling the bitter scrape of dirt and little pebbles and dead bugs against my skin. Registering what I'd felt, especially the dead bugs, I rapidly drew my hands back and sat up. It was dark. Where was I? Water heater, pipes… Oh. Oh yes. I was in a room in Price. I was in the Pricecut Hotel.

I'd been captured. I was being held. Panic? Yes, please, that seems appropriate. I slapped myself, no, no panic. Bad panic.

Wake up, Ben. Screw on your head. What time was it? No idea. I'll bet Blackwell knew, he had a cell phone. Something was plucking at the back of my head, like a harpist's fingers. What? Something about my duty. Not to worry? Something about a week? Suddenly I felt thoroughly convinced that I had at least a week before anything bad happened. Why did I think that? I didn't know… but I did. A week is a good long time, wasn't it? I let out a deep sigh, feeling a tiny drop of relief drop onto the fires of my panic. Didn't mean I couldn't get to work, though. Maybe I _could _kick the door open. Maybe I should wait for them to come in again, try to attack them. They'd be aiming a gun at me, though.

The thought of just sitting and seeing what would happen roved madly through my mind for one second and I dashed it away. No-one else was going to save the world, were they? Not even the President of the United States could do anything now. I had to get out. Well, there was Riley, but somehow I doubted he was in any position to save everyone either. Although he _was_ a smart kid, maybe he'd figure something out while he was hacking for them.

Hacking for them? When had I decided he was hacking for them? Well… it kind of made sense… in the face of torture, many people would choose to help, and I'll bet Riley knew he had at least a week to come up with something. Knew that in the long run his helping wouldn't have that much effect. At least if he did that they wouldn't hurt him, and that was a big relief for me.

I was feeling much better. I was rested, I still had at least a week to do something, and Riley, I guessed, would be ok. And either way they couldn't kill him. Because they needed him. I smiled. It felt like something forbidden, and it felt like a black cat had pranced across my lips and down my throat, leaving little bad luck footprints all over my insides.

**Chinese Man**

Heat vision cameras had allowed me to keep an eye on Tomas as he did his work. I had to admit, I was impressed with how he went about things, how he moved and when he talked. It was quite disturbing. But he hadn't gone over the edge with Riley, something I had feared would happen. Maybe this would work better than I thought.

Of course, there was still the problem of me. I couldn't figure myself out. Maybe I just didn't want to figure myself out. I wished Riley had been a complete ass. Without a mysterious medical problem. This wouldn't feel so weird then. My empathy was constantly welling up inside me and causing me to pause, try to get a handle on myself. Each time that happened I had to ask myself; why?

I feared being incompetent. That took some saying on my part. I was never that quick to admit my flaws, but this flaw had serious problem potential. Riley was threatening my foundation. Almost making me want to reevaluate… no. I shouldn't have thought that. Sometimes putting things into mental words were productive and sometimes they were destructive. Now I knew. It was there, a spark the techie had planted into my brain without even trying. Maybe I'd have to pull myself from this whole process, get busy with other things. Do something.

I knew immediately I wouldn't be able to now.

Damn him. He was so pathetic, so pitiful, so weak in his beliefs… or so I hoped. If he cracked, if he allowed himself to be remade in our beliefs, become a new person, I'd know, then, that this whole thing was stupid, I was worrying and berating myself for nothing. His values would have indeed been faux. But what if he didn't crumple? What if he just kept on being the pathetic, pitiful, weak Riley Poole? What if Riley Poole disappeared and no-one emerged to take his place?

**So this was a chapter in which I played around with thought and the character's minds. One of them is manipulating his own mind, one of them is getting his mind manipulated by a willing other, and the last character's mind is being manipulated by an oblivious other. Oh the drama. Or melodrama. Maybe spinach. Yorn desh de bork. **


	12. Chapter 12

**Thanks for all the reviews again! Ahhhh, so much homework! I haven't forgotten about this thing, I still like it!**

**Disclaimer: I disclaim.**

**It's time for some boring philosophy lectures! **

Riley

…

…

Man, I hated waking up. Unless it was in a little shack in the tropics next to a beautiful beach full of babes, I didn't want any part in it. Leave my nice warm bed to do what, work? Hack? Haha. Right. Where was my alarm clock, I had to turn it off…

No alarm clock, it wasn't warm, there wasn't a bed. I shot upright and was hit with a red-hot poker, inserted neatly into my eye socket. The pain was excruciating and it was cold and I was shivering, _elbow_! What the hell was going on? I hung on to my forehead as if it would fly away if I removed my hands, felt dizzy. Where was I? Why couldn't I see anything, what was wrong with my head, my chest, my elbow, my face? Was the room really whirling around me?

Was that a door I heard, swiffing open to my left and slamming? Pain, my elbow, ow. I was being lifted up but I didn't know where the floor was so I stumbled, into a pillar of warm, solid body. Who the hell?

"Stand up straight, pansy." That was familiar. But stand up straight? I laughed out loud. That wasn't going to happen. The body disappeared from my side and I was thrown bodily and violently onto my right side, more pain – agony in my elbow that rivaled that in my head. Not the voice but the way the body acted reminded me who it was, and along with the knowledge of what the presence meant came everything else, where I was, what was going on, what had happened.

Why couldn't this just be a really bad dream? Please? I could deal with a dream. Just don't let this be real, anything but real. _Please._ With each stab of the imaginary poker, pushing further and further into my eye socket and scorching the nerves to fried strings of dead matter, I prayed, _please, please, please, please_, and he kicked the small of my back.

"Up, pansy." I couldn't do it. Was he going to kill me? Was it even worth it to try and explain that I _couldn't _get up? Would he really kill me? Would I care if he did?

…

…

_Chinese Man_

…

…

_Riley got cluster headaches. That was his big secret. It hadn't been that hard for me to pull up his medical records and read about what a sick kid he'd been – I'm no hacker, but medical records were everyone's specialty here. He'd had arrhythmias all his life, first discovered when he was five. The prescribed medication had given him bradycardias so they'd stopped using it after two months and he'd taken nothing for it since. He'd had aggressive night terrors starting at age 3. Nothing was done to try to remedy this problem, although there was a note about anxiety being a possible factor, no specification as to what the anxiety could have been from, but it did say that the parents of Mr. Poole seemed unwilling to discuss that option. Broken left forearm when he was ten; upon examination it was discovered that it had been broken some weeks earlier and the bones had fused back together wrong. It was re-broken, set, and put in a cast. When he was fourteen he'd made several visits to various clinics, hospitals, and youth specialists before they diagnosed him with mild chronic fatigue syndrome a year later. _

_They prescribed atomoxitine. _

_Sixteen saw him suffering from his first cluster headache. _

_So he was a victim. There were a lot of victims out there – our reach was far and deep. He was one of those latent victims, one of those surprises we hadn't meant to happen. A side-effect of attempted murder. _

_After researching the condition a bit I felt I had enough of a grasp on it, not that I needed any kind of grasp at all. It really shouldn't matter. The only way it changed things was the fact that it made me feel even more guilty about doing this to him. We'd caused his headaches, captured him, were torturing him, forcing him to-_

_Shuttup. It did no good to dwell on such things. I'd been trying so hard to push our hopefully future hacker from my mind, but no, I'd pulled up his medical records. What had I been thinking? Now that I knew he suffered one of the most painful human conditions out there because of us, that was supposed to make me feel cold towards him? _

_My mind started wandering in a direction I absolutely didn't want it to go, but it was like the early morning, waking up. Get out of bed, stand there in the cold and stare at the warm pile of covers you just crawled out of. Where was the self-control? Not there yet. Crawl back in. I couldn't, I couldn't reign in my mind, I couldn't stop it from going there._

_Riley couldn't concentrate on what Tomas was doing or saying when he was having a headache._

_Cursing, pulling at my hair, berating myself. There, I'd said it. I'd mentally voiced my excuse to give the kid some relief. I _knew_ what it really meant, it meant I was soft and a terrible leader and that my beliefs weren't as strong as I'd believed they were. Oh, to be Jeremy or Tomas, I thought to myself, slumping into the chair, trying to melt into the fabric. Yes. I just wanted an excuse to tell Tomas to back off, at least when Riley was having a headache. Could I risk it? What would Tomas think of me? Would he suspect what I meant when I said that, suspect I was… feeling dangerously protective? I was. Cringing. If he suspected, would he leave, or did he have the iron will to take my place? What did I want? Someone to just take over for me so I didn't have to feel so damned responsible? _

_This wasn't supposed to happen like this. I'd always thought my thoughts were made of unshakable belief. Then what the hell was that little pathetic geek doing? How? Was it even possible? Not even King Jr, not even Gandhi, not the thought of the dwindling population of bushmen in Africa who were just trying to survive out there, not the countless children hoping to grow up and change the world for the better could shake my beliefs. _

_What did I want? Was Riley right, were there things about humans that made their existence worth it, music, art? _

_No. I stood by what I'd said about that. Music is the best thing humans have fashioned, but then again, it had no purpose if there was no human._

_Well, wait._

_Hadn't music been the first thing in existence? Hadn't Gitchi Manitou set everything into motion according to the first thing that ever occupied the darkness, that daywaygun, that eternal drumbeat, that rhythm? Wasn't that beat what made everything happen, made the world spin, the heavens expand, the moon rise and fall, the seasons change, life and death, the beat of a heart? _

_That hadn't really been a drum, had it? It was just a sound out of nothing. A drum is what we humans used to represent the sound. _

_Was the beat of a lone drum really music, or was it just a sound? And if I asked that, what, exactly, constituted music? _

_Manmade noises? Surely the best music, if music at all, came from nature. The wind and the ocean, a cardinal and rain falling on vast forests. Music was a man-made word. There were no words. There just _was._ What we called technical music was the auditory expression of human emotion, and we didn't need human emotion._

_Of course, if I was going to draw from the realm of Gitchi Manitou, wouldn't I be implying that humans were meant to be? Well they were. They just weren't supposed to spread and destroy like cancer. They resided on the fourth level of creation, were supposed to depend on the physical world, the plants, the animals. If industrialization had never occurred everything would be ok. The Native Americans had had it right. They had been doing it how it was meant to be done before the whites had come along._

_No, no, no, no, no. __Humans were bad. No amount or type of human was good. _

_But my train of thought had led me to a logical conclusion._

_Had I just told myself that there was a possibility of accepting a type of humanity into my heart? _

…

…

Riley

…

…

I was going to die.

With each kick that landed on me, each fist that fell on my skin, I felt myself inching closer and closer to death. There was so much pain and so much frustration. The question 'why' kept going through my head, why me, why now, why do this, why don't they let me rest, why, why, why, and I never came up with any answers because it hurt too much. He was speaking, I knew, but about what I didn't know. Lots of curses floated into my ear cannels but they didn't get much further. Just kind of sat there like a swarm of wasps that didn't know what they were doing there but couldn't quite find the way back out. How annoying. They were going to starve and die and then I'd have a bunch of dead bugs rattling around in my ears.

The poker was pushed so far into my brain now, I doubted it could get any further in. It hurt so much. My hands were stuck to my head and I wondered if I'd accidentally gauged out my eye. It was wet enough. Was it blood or tears? Couldn't move my fingers to feel if there was a crater where my eye had been. Maybe there would actually be a fire poker there this time, wrought-iron twisted into my flesh and through my skull, destroying everything it contacted.

Was that me? Shamefully, I admitted that yes, that screaming, moaning noise was me. Why, again? What good was it doing?

The cold poked at every cell in my body, prickling my skin, all I wanted was to be warm and comfortable! Couldn't that happen? Couldn't someone come and save me, anybody? I felt like a pathetic animal, cowering in a corner, wishing only for comfort and warmth, basic needs, right? Why was this even happening, I didn't remember. Did he want something from me? Was there something I could say? I felt like my middle was caught in a monstrous bear trap, rusty spikes severing my body. Parts of me felt like they were going numb with pain, were my nerves finally fed up with this and just quitting? I should do that too. What a plan.

There were hands on my shoulders now. Hot meat breath in my face. Language was being spoken. Was I being saved?

"Huh?" I asked. Maybe if I asked nicely, my ears would work. They started ringing and buzzing, wasps waking up.

"I said this could all end right now if you agree."

"Ok." I'd agree. I liked to agree. It sounded warm and comfortable.

"If you're lying, it'll be worse than this." I think I may have laughed at that, either because I thought the prospect of me lying was funny or I didn't think it could get any worse than it was at the moment. Maybe I was giddy with the prospect of this ending.

"Anything," I mumbled. The poker was twisting around now, melting with the heat it was emitting and starting to slide down my spinal cord. What was this? This had never happened. I screamed again, lowered my head to the ground, tried to keep the liquid metal from slipping down my neck. It didn't work. Delirium? Yes, thank you. What was going on now? What was I doing here? Whose hands were on my shoulders and why was I so sure they were hands?

The creeping pain surged into my neck. It spread its fingers and encircled both of my temples in its grasp. No longer a poker. A parasite.

Exploding - the pain turned into bunches of firecrackers shoved into my nervous system, bursting a million times along my spinal cord, in my head, in my eyes, between my shoulders. I was no longer in a room, I was in a state of mind and I was trapped. Warmth and comfort could do nothing for me now. Me. Who was I? Did I even exist? Where was Riley Poole, and why did I know that name?

…

…

_The Chinese Man_

…

…

_I rolled with my mind. I could no longer control my thoughts, they raged around inside like a lightning storm. There was no organization and I wasn't about to attempt that filing job. Let them rage. I was going to have nothing to do with them._

_Walking to the basement now. Why? I was following what my mind said to do. My mind said to go check on Riley. I wasn't allowed to ask why. _

_My surroundings passed by in a haze. My eyes weren't working. I stared ahead at my path, trying to receive as little thought stimulus as possible. Maybe this panic and uncertainty would blow over. _

_Was I there already? I pushed open the door to the basement, felt for the glasses, put them on. Before I could see anything I heard a noise and my first thought was that I was hearing that rhythm that existed before the first vision. I wiped a hand across my forehead – my arm was shaking. Sight came as I realized the sound wasn't a regular beat at all, was instead the nearly unmistakable rasp of someone who had been screaming trying to catch their breath. I'd never heard that sound before but I was certain that this is what it sounded like. _

_The freezer door was open, Tomas was dragging Riley out of the black void by an elbow. Both of Riley's hands were clenched at the side of his head, muscles must have been rigid as ironwood for Tomas to drag him around like that. His whole body looked like a statue, no part of him relented in its frozen state as he was hauled out of there. _

_I closed my eyes. _

_Part of me wanted to wonder curiously what it had been that had caused him to be in such a state, if it was ok, if it was an acceptable part of the process. Another part of me wanted to start raging madly, leap upon Tomas, lock him in the freezer, cry over Riley's body, wonder what I'd done. _

_I couldn't move. Inner turmoil fumed and fought and I felt like I couldn't possibly bear to take one more step, accept one more factor, one more thing demanding my attention. Tomas, his back to me, threw Riley to the ground a ways from the freezer. The young man's body unfurled a bit as if it had thawed slightly. Onto his side. Wasn't he supposed to be less blue and more orange? No,no. Everything's normal. Deal with your previous predicament. _

_This _was_ my previous predicament. This was it. _

_A hideous thought crawled through my head, sticky and crumbling, mumbling about just killing the kid and solving the problem. Where had that come from? My humanity, I suppose, selfishness. I pushed it away. How much of this issue had to do with selfishness? Was selflessness even possible? What if the little mind monster was right? Why did I feel like it wasn't, I thought I wanted everybody to be dead? _

"_Tomas!" My voice echoed through the chamber. Tomas whirled around, startled. Riley actually flipped over and stared in my direction, hiss of breath escaping through his teeth. Tomas what? Tomas go away? Tomas you're fired? Tomas thank you for your good work, come back in approximately fifteen minutes?_

"_Stop." I was walking towards them. I actually wanted to do that. It was voluntary this time. I arrived at Tomas's side and stared down at Riley. He was sobbing and screaming and whimpering and moaning all at the same time, exhaustedly, as if he'd been doing it for hours and was running out of energy. I could see it on his face, the misery and fatigued desperation. He wasn't moving now, lying shaking and not entirely prone at Tomas's feet._

"_What?" said Tomas. What indeed. _

"_He can't understand you when he's having a cluster headache." Really?_

"_Really," I answered myself. _

"_He said he agreed, though." Careful, I told myself. He was already getting worked up. _

"_Agreed to what?"_

"_Help get us the authorizations!" _

"_Riley!" I exclaimed, wondering if I'd get any reaction from him. I didn't. _

"_Leave, Tomas. I'm going to ask him again once his headache goes away. I'll tell you what he says." Tomas blinked at me before lunging away. He was angry. I was doubting his techniques. I was grateful that nothing terribly offensive had slipped out of my mouth, grateful I'd remained calm. Tomas's red flame of an image slipped through the door in the back, which shut with a decisive slam._

_The dam I'd erected between what I should feel and what I did feel broke and I didn't bother to start repairing it. Yet. _

_I set myself on the ground next to Riley, lay my hand gently on his shoulder. The reaction startled me more than my hand startled him – he curled into my arm, turning onto his side and clasping my hand to his chest, and I felt how cold he was. It was like holding hands with a dead person. The supposed warmest part of his body, what I could feel beneath the front of his shirt, even felt too cold. _

_I had never had a child but I had assumed I knew what the parental instinct was and felt like. No. Before that I had had no idea. Nothing even close to knowing. He was freezing and in pain, and I imagined that all he wanted was to be warm. I was warm. If I were any kind of parent I would have pulled him to my body and hugged him. _

_The thought manifested itself metaphorically in my mind as jumping off a cliff. An inappropriate metaphor, perhaps, but the one that I saw. _

_I withdrew my arm, scrambled backwards, watched as he curled into himself. Sobbing, I spun around and darted halfway to the door. Turned around, stared at the cold thing on the floor. _

_I left. _

…

…

…

…

**Oh no, more angst. I don't know how much more of this I can take. I also haven't forgotten about Ben. It may seem like that, but I have a plot waiting for him as well. Bork. **


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello, you wonderful person. I am very sorry for that horrendous gap in non-postage, but I'm sure you know how it goes in winter semester of college. Everything happens at once. And still is. But it's Easter break (happy Easter!) and guess who has a few empty days! **

**I had a lot of encouraging, helpful, and fun reviews before this chapter! Thank you guys! I may not have continued were it not for those. You know how it goes – you get busy and forget, some of your motivation starts leaking away. Those reviews helped me keep my motivation, thank you! **

**Sadly, this chapter is really no fun. It's a lot lighter than all the other ones. I just really needed this part of the story to do something. I needed a breath of fresh air, if you will. Ben's cell was starting to smell. **

Ben

You hear people say that time is a funny thing all the time. And then you hear people say that it's funny that so many people say that, and then they go on to say, no really, folks, it's true. This one time I was doing something and something happened and I thought about time. See?

Time _is_ a funny thing.

The next time you're stuck in a dark cell with no perception of time passing, think about it. I'd heard the argument that time is a human construction. I find that hard to believe. I mean, sure. The way we label the hours, minutes, seconds, days, months, and years is kind of ridiculous, I guess. But the way we live demands it, however constructed it is. But, _time_. Moments passing. Is that real? Yes. I'm doing something now that I wasn't doing a moment ago. Time is real. 

Time is, in essence, something you think about when you're bored. That must be it.

I had no idea how long I'd been in there, and that was kind of fun. The mystery of not knowing a length of time is so disconcerting. It throws your whole perception off kilter. I'd been sleeping a bit and that made it even weirder. Man, this is not how I wanted to spend my time. What a waste of this part of my life.

Noise! What was that? Some sort of rumpus was being had on the other side of this wall! Lots of angry voices were raised, what was going on? Curse these thick walls. I pressed my ears to them, which just rendered things fuzzier and kind of echoey. 

BANGBANGBANG.

I flew from the wall, clutching at my ear. What? Was someone yelling at me? I couldn't hear.

"WHAT?" I yelled.

"SIR?"

"WHAT!" Why were they calling me sir and yelling at me? My heart leapt! Could it be we were being rescued? Could this be the police? Could that even happen, had fortune not abandoned us?

"STEP AWAY FROM THE DOOR, SIR!" I stepped away from the door, a bit dazed. Poundings were taking place but the door would not give. There was a momentary eerie silence and my hopes started sinking to my shoes. Where had they gone?

And then, almost comically, the door fell in. It didn't crash, it didn't shatter with a dramatic whuff of dust and dead bugs. It simply fell in, clanged once, rather hollowly. Sure enough, police stood on the other side of the door, one armed with what looked suspiciously like a welder. I dismissed the obvious safety hazards of using such a device in an area like this. They were police. I smiled, sighed, slouched, slunk to the door. They stared at me, bewildered. 

"Sir, are you alright?"

"Yes, yes I'm fine."

"What did they want from you?"

"Well…" I stopped myself from plunging into what was going on. They couldn't know. I stalled, staring around for my captors. There they were, handcuffed to the light post outside. 

"We just… checked in here, we thought it was a motel. And they locked us up. That was it, we haven't known what was going on or anything."

"We? Are there more of you?"

"Well yes, that room, right there…" At first I was shocked they hadn't rescued the Blackwells yet, then I was shocked that the door was open. Upon peering inside it became apparent that the Blackwells had quite mysteriously disappeared. 

"Um… There were people in here?" Was I asking a question? 

"Sir, we haven't seen anyone."

"But… where…" I stared around. No way to escape, there were no windows or doors. It was much like my own cell. I backed out of the room and stared at the men handcuffed outside. What was going on?

"Sir, we're going to have to take you back to the station and ask you some questions. Do you mind coming with us?" Going to the police station was about the last thing I wanted to do at the moment. So many complications could arise from it. I needed to somehow slyly slip from their grasp. Probably not the easiest thing to do, nor the smartest. The situation was bad enough already, I didn't need the police on my case. 

"May I make a call first?" 

"To who?

"My friend. I'm sure he's been worried sick, I was supposed to visit him yesterday."

"Ok, sir. Do you have a cell phone?"

"I _had _one, I have a feeling those nincompoops stole it or something. It's one of those high-tech expensive ones." I turned around, looking for it. It had to be here somewhere. 

"Maybe one of them has it," I suggested, pointing to the men outside. One of the officers obligingly strode outside and searched them for cell phones. This disappointed me a bit. They should have been searched already. And why was he so sure I was telling the truth about it being my cell phone? Why was he so comfortable leaving me with the other officer, who was kind of pathetically scrawny? 

Man, I was just so used to being paranoid. _Ben, you're the victim here_. I told myself to relax. And, what fortune, the officer had found the cell phone. The man hadn't even put up a fight. The other officer walked back in, handed me the phone. Now what? They expected me to call someone. I had to call someone now. I could just dial a bogus number and pretend no-one was home. No, no, I needed to distract them. The point of this was to escape. I stared at the phone as it turned on. 

Heh heh, no reception. Of course.

"I'm not getting any reception here… Mind if I step outside?" They nodded, totally unsuspecting. I high-fived myself in my head, which is something I'd admit I do to absolutely no-one, and pushed open the door. The sun was setting, but due to a pretty miserable sheet of stratus clouds none of the fantastic sunset show could be seen down here from the perspective of us humans. I tried not to catch the eye of any of the handcuffed men, and headed leisurely down the opposite direction. Thank heavens they were keeping quiet. Probably knew they couldn't say anything. Of course, they were probably planning an elaborate escape as well. I glanced into the faux motel. Couldn't believe it – the police were talking to each other. They weren't even keeping an eyeball on me. I stole a look at the light-post men. They were sure keeping an eye on me. I guessed if I ran they'd yell. They knew what I was up to. Well, that was fine, as long as I could still escape. Which would have to be pretty quick now. Convenient alleyway to my right.

I didn't take it. That would be the first place to look. I really wanted to climb swiftly up one of these brick walls and run around on the rooftops, but I couldn't make it up fast enough. A sidewalk stairway led down under the buildings, but heaven knew what lie down there, or if the doorway was even open. 

Wait. Seriously, did I really stand in front of a candy shop? I did. I stood in front of 'Treat Me Sweet'. How corny. Quite literally. Most of the contents of that shop was corn syrup, no doubt. But outside of the shop, right there, that was what I wanted. I looked through the windows for a moment. There was the kid. Striped blue shirt, yellow shorts, red baseball cap. Buying a giant swirly lollipop. How very sickeningly typical. 

I stole his bike.

Yes, I was going to ride away on a stolen bike and escape the police. I felt like Mr. Bean as I took a running start and swung my leg over the seat. Grateful that this wasn't one of those bikes owned by a kid who thinks tiny bikes look cool, I pedaled. Already there was yelling behind me and I knew I had just seconds before a police car started after me. I needed to round a few corners, end up somewhere confusing, ditch the bike somewhere inconspicuous, and wedge myself into a corner for a few. 

More yelling behind me. I turned right on the next block. Pedaled harder. Cursed my lack of gastronemius stamina, my legs were already burning. Where to turn? Dark alley? Parking ramp? Passed them both up in favor of an upcoming park, one of the dumber things I've ever done. After the park there was no more development to hide in. I pulled over and swung off, wondering where the heck I was supposed to put the thing. So much for finding somewhere confusing and ditching the bike somewhere inconspicuous. I leaned it against an orange brick building. 

There seemed to be some kind of festival taking place here in the park. Several small vendors were selling racks of clothing, piles of what were probably handmade soy candles, some wooden crafts. Not much of a crowd here, but it would have to work. I heard sirens start up far in the distance. Was I wearing an undershirt? Why yes, I was. Thank the gods of planning. I pulled off the shirt I had been wearing and tossed it in a nearby garbage can, immediately regretting my action as chill air started nibbling my arms. Oh well. Maybe they wouldn't recognize me now. 

I did have my wallet in my back pocket... the thought flew through my mind as I stared at a hat rack. They were all tie-dye, and it was part of a tie-dye booth. I hated tie-dye. It reminded me of little girls and hippies. I strode purposefully towards the floppy, wide-brimmed hats. Sirens hadn't rounded the bend yet but they would soon. 

I spent about ten seconds acting like I was trying to make an intelligent and thoughtful decision on what color of repulsion I desired to wear on my head. My hand picked one out for me and I carried it to the man and the register for the booth. He smiled. He was young and was also decked out in tie-dye. Emulating an overpowering smell of badness. Probably a hippie.

"Nice choice." I'll bet he said that to everybody.

"That'll be eighteen." I already had a twenty in my hand. I shoved it at him. The sirens had rounded the bend, it sounded like. 

"Keep the change, these are nice products. Have a good day!" I waved, then jammed the hat onto my head. Took a few steps away. People were starting to turn around at the sound of the sirens, probably the most exciting thing to happen all month. It would look funny if I decided to run away instead of stop and stare like a cow. I had to force myself to stop, face the noise. Hoping my now white-clothed torso and entirely inconspicuous tie-dye floppy hat was enough of a camouflage, I lifted my eyes to the street. 

There they were.

And there they went.

One turned down the ally, one headed up the parking ramp.

I smiled, scoffed at myself. What the heck was this? Suddenly a chum bucket of good fortune had been dumped onto my head. I had escaped. So far. Keep moving, Ben. Where to go?

The golden arches sprung into my conscience. Oh, this was pathetic. Hiding in McDonald's. Well… it would work, right? They wouldn't look in McDonald's. I crossed the street, surprised that my hat wasn't drawing stares. I glanced behind me. No cop cars coming out yet. Maybe they would get lost back there. Into Micky-D's. 

Wow, what a smell. I hadn't been in one of these in years. Frying patties of corn pretending to be fat pretending to be meat. Disinfectant, floor-cleaner, (Watch Your Step Wet Floor), giant tubs of salty French-fries. I'll bet the French didn't eat French-fries. I got into line, staring blankly at the menu items posted above the registers. It didn't occur to me to actually find something to order until there were two people left in front of me. I realized I had been staring at the Double-Quarter-Pounder with cheese. I averted my eyes. When it came to be my turn to order I asked for a 'Filet-o-Fish', much more fun than it sounded. 

I sat and ate my fish fillet for the next half hour, eyes and ears pricked to any wickedness that could quite possibly this way come. None came but I still got to suffer the indigestion of eating while in the middle of a mild panic attack. Feeling privileged, I exited the building with a definite sick feeling in my stomach, reflecting on how surprisingly not-bad the fish had really been and how unfortunate it was to spoil the rarity with nerves. 

I was now expecting to be pounced upon by some recently escaped men bearing plaid shirts, and some scrawny and befuddled policemen. I noticed, as I made my way across the parking lot to a random brownish building, that it was very hard to walk normally if you're _trying _to walk normally. Try it sometime when you're in an emergency requiring you to walk normally. 

I had no idea where I was going, but as I got closer to the building, I realized it was an auto insurance center. Not a bad place to take a sit and stare at this phone, wonder where the Blackwells were, figure out what to do. It was probably air-conditioned, which was definitely not what I wanted. Minor factor. It was even open, which was rather special for this late at night. I didn't even know what day it was. Apparently it wasn't Sunday.

Sure enough, I entered and was welcomed by a blast of cold air. No-one was behind the desk so I took a seat in one of the classy green non-swivel office chairs lining the wall. Removed the cell from my pocket and flipped it open. The first thing I saw in the screen was my reflection.

I ripped my hat off and stared at it.

What had I been thinking? In retrospect, sure, I needed a hat. But man, could my hand have had any worse taste? What kind of color combo were red, yellow, and green? It wasn't even tie-dye, it was just blended stripes. And it had dancing bears circling the head. Colorful ones. If a hat were ever to be on a psychedelic trip, this would be the one. I sighed. Twenty bucks for a hat on crack.

**Hey, not a depressing ending! Not depressing in the usual sense, at least. I'll be getting back to the Chinese Man and Riley and all that fun in the next chapter. Ben was begging for some attention and I felt bad for not posting. **


	14. Chapter 14

Back to Riley

**Back to Riley!**

**I guess I haven't really been clear about this point – Ben and the Blackwells were imprisoned in an entirely different building than Riley. They're about half an hour apart at the moment. Hopefully this chapter will defog some of that. **

**StriderX – Thank you for the wonderful review, and mentioning that thing about the weird chapter format earlier. I checked it out and it showed normally to me. Hopefully it was just a little temporary blip. Bork. I'll keep an eye out for that sort of thing, let me know if you notice it again. If you would. That would be lovely. **

**Oh, and I have a minor name issue in previous chapters – to fix any improbable confusion, the guy's name is Finn, not Flinn.**

Chinese Man

I was crumpling like a circus tent whose poles had been unstaked. My ethics were whizzing around like severed cords, rabid snakes, unsure of where to land because forces were pulling them too many directions. My mind billowed around me, floating about on wafts of night wind, unsettled and at the mercy of events. 

I once again felt like a freshman in college. Thirty years ago had seen me wondering what to do with my life, trying to grasp my values and beliefs, trying to find out who I was. I had resolved myself into a pillar of my own ethics within the first year of college and had stood unshaken ever since. But now… 

No longer trying to cling to my past beliefs, I now liberated myself into the empty, lost feeling I thought I'd never return to. Everything I wanted to do now seemed wrong, everything I'd ever wanted to do seemed wrong. I wanted to fire Tomas, shut down this whole operation. I wanted to run away and let them deal with it without me. I wanted to rescue Riley and Ben and the Blackwells. 

I wanted everyone to live. I wanted to die. I wanted to see the world reborn. I didn't want to think about who I wanted to live and die right now. I wanted to dig myself out of this hole, jump off this pedestal. 

Why was I staring at the video screen? I was immobilized with helplessness, waiting for myself to solve the problem. Since I'd fled the basement Riley's headache had stopped, apparently, and left him exhausted. Tomas was talking to him now, having dragged him back into the freezer. The man paced back and fourth in front of Riley, who, from what I could tell, may as well have been dead.

_"Samantha Larson has climbed the Seven Summits. She's 18. Lionel Bringuir is 21 and is the Assistant Conductor of the Los Angeles Philharmonic .Alexandra Nechita had her first art exhibit in California when she was eight. Now she attracts tens of thousands of dollars for her paintings. Arabella Uhry is 12 and she's placed in the Empire State Games fencing." _

Why he knew these things I could only imagine. He probably looked them up and memorized them just for this purpose.

_"And you're a hacker." _

He paused in speech and movement, as if contemplating something. Continuing, he crouched down in front of the prone form.

_"There are so many people your age and younger actually _doing _something with their lives. Changing the world, inspiring millions, making money, supporting themselves. All you do is play around on your computer and follow your one friend around. Your one friend who doesn't even care about you. Call yourself a hacker? Real hackers wouldn't allow themselves to get caught. Real hackers actually exercise a bit of caution. You bumble around online leaving a trail a chimp could follow. Now, here."_

Tomas settled himself comfortably onto the floor next to Riley, as if engaging him in a friendly conversation.

_"Here you have your chance to make something of your life. You know it's the right thing to do. You could save the planet. The planet. Riley, it's the most important thing anyone could ever do."_

Riley muttered something about not being a selfish bastard, which only made Tomas chuckle. Once again I was impressed with Tomas. I hoped Riley wasn't having second thoughts about his own beliefs but under the conditions I found it hard to believe that he'd be an island of strength. 

_"If you join us you'll have a lot of friends. People who actually care about you." _

Riley was the one to laugh at this one. It was a wheezing laugh but there was unmistakable mirth behind it. I didn't blame him for laughing; it was kind of an outrageous statement.

_"You find that funny. It's true. There would be-"_

_ "We'd all be dead within days," _Riley interrupted. _"It wouldn't matter."_ Surprisingly, Tomas didn't seem to have a verbal retort to that. Instead he lashed out with his fist and knocked the breath out of Riley. Tomas left. Riley slumped. I got up. This situation was making me nauseas. I couldn't believe I was the one who had set it in motion. 

I made my way quietly to the basement, opened and closed the door as carefully as I could. Put on the vision goggles and approached the black box, keeping one eye on Tomas's door in the corner of the room. I unlocked the door to the freezer and slowly stepped inside, shut the door. Riley hadn't moved from the position I'd seen him in on the tape. 

"Riley," I whispered. 

"What?" he asked. 

"We're leaving." I approached his side and knelt down. He didn't make a move to sit up.

"Why?"

"Get up, come on. I don't know when Tomas'll be back." He still didn't move.

"Why would you care?" His despairing tone was laced with a bit of whine, which was heartening.

"Riley, I'm trying to help you escape here. Move." He lay still for a moment, then shifted, tried to get his arms under himself. I helped him to his feet and he clung to my arm. I reminded myself he couldn't see anything. Poking my head out the door, I made sure Tomas was nowhere to be seen before I stepped out of the freezer. I headed towards where I thought the door must be, a bit disoriented, dragging Riley along. He was walking slowly, which I should have predicted. I opened the door. Suddenly overly sensitive to outside stimuli, I was shocked at how dusty the air down here smelled, how loud my own footsteps were in the silence. Up the stairs we went, through the storage room, past my office, into the co-op, and out the door.

Had Tomas really not noticed?

The door had jingle bells on it, I should have guessed. I walked quickly down the sidewalk to the left, wrenching off my now unneeded goggles and hoping the cheery sound of the door shutting wouldn't be heard by Tomas, hopefully still hidden away in the basement. If it had been anyone else I wouldn't have worried about it being heard, but Tomas seemed superhuman. 

A thick blanket of clouds covered the sky. Riley was staring around, bewildered, still clinging to my arm. I couldn't imagine what it was like for him, suddenly being able to see and hear and sense things. 

"Where are we going?" I asked myself. Riley looked at me, worried.

"What, don't you have a plan?"

"Kind of spur of the moment, shuttup." I was headed towards my car, but where to go once we got there? There weren't that many places to hide a car. I unlocked the doors and got into the driver's side, Riley crawling into the passenger side. 

Flinching, I started the car, but didn't turn on the headlights. The engine revved and sounded like the loudest thing in the world as I backed up, angled out, and took off up the road. 

Was this happening? Was I escaping? I had nothing to escape from… Riley was leaning against the door, staring out the window. It was like when we drove here but now he rode next to me, and didn't stare out at the landscape in despair. He now stared in what appeared to be bewildered shock.

"How are you feeling?" I asked. He slowly swiveled his head to look at me.

"I don't know. What's going on? Where are we going?"

"I don't know." I didn't mind that he hadn't answered my question. His question was a better one. Where were we going? Heading North. Through the empty farmlands, past shallow foothills. 

"Keep your eyes behind us, will you?" He nodded and glanced at the sideview. I wondered if it was such a good idea to be driving around without headlights – it looked highly suspicious. But I couldn't risk it. Sooner or later someone would come chasing after us and hopefully we'd see them before they saw us.

"Riley, open the glove box, will you, find my cell phone." He did as I asked, handing me the phone. I flipped it open and ran a red light. That and the fact that I wasn't using my headlights probably guaranteed my being chased by the local police. Address book, names, Cell 3. Yes. Ringing. I would call Finn and ask him how Ben and the Blackwells were doing. 

"Who are you calling?" asked Riley. I shushed him, feeling justified in my distracted state to do so. He watched the road. Not half a ring passed before the other end picked up.

"Finn?" I asked. There was silence. Someone breathing.

"Hello? This is the supervisor. Is someone there?" Still breathing. 

"Who is this?" Riley was staring at me. Why weren't they answering? What had happened?

"Ben?" I asked, speaking the thought before I had thought about it. There as a lengthy pause.

"Yes?"

"Ben, that's you?" I asked, a bit louder than I'd intended. Riley sat up straighter and leaned forward. 

"Chinese man?"

"Yes, it's me. Listen, Ben…" What to say? I didn't even know what was going on on his end. How did he have the cell phone?

"Why did you call?" he asked me.

"I'm helping Riley escape," I said. I felt guilty and a bit foolish saying it. No reason to.

"What? Where are you? Let me talk to Riley!" I didn't answer, just handed Riley the phone. He had a smile on his face as he greeted Ben. I heard Ben's excited shout back to him and almost felt good that I'd played a part in reuniting them. But I remembered where I was, what was going on, and that I had been the one to separate them in the first place. I'd never get over that.

"I'm fine." Ben's voice buzzing.

"No, I… I guess." Ben buzzing again. 

"They aren't? Where are they?" Buzz.

"Well… where are you?" 

"He's in Price," I said. "Tell him we're leaving Cleveland, we're about twenty minutes south of him." Riley repeated the information, listened. Looked at me.

"He doesn't know what to do. Says there are police after him and probably some plaid-shirted rednecks."

"Where is he?"

"Where are you, Ben?" Buzz.

"Says he's in an auto insurance center." How did that help me? I wasn't sure it did. 

"Are the Blackwells with him?" I asked.

"No, they're gone. The police found them somehow and busted Ben out and arrested the guys, but the Blackwells have disappeared. And their car is gone too." I cursed. Now what? 

"Tell Ben I'm going to drive to Price and find him. We'll pick him up, and then see if we can't figure something out about the Blackwells." Riley relayed the information, then sat and listened. He turned to me.

"Ben wants to kn-" I reached over and took the phone from Riley. Middlemen were rarely efficient when it came to phone conversation.

"What, Ben?" Ben's voice echoed back to me over miles of sound waves. 

"Then what? What are we supposed to do after that, we can't just sit around. What are the people in Cleveland going to do, wait for you to show up before they decide to start up anything disastrous?"

"You come up with a better plan, you let me know. I'll feel better once we're all together."

"_We_ now? Once _we're _all together? How do we know we can trust you, why do you suddenly want us to be one big happy group?" I didn't have an immediate reply to that. They had no way of knowing I wasn't about to trick them. _I _didn't even trust myself anymore. 

"What are you going to do, Ben, hide from us as we try and find you? Even if I wanted to trick you you can't deny you want to see Riley."

"Man, if you're lying-"

"You'll rip my eyeballs out and shove them up my nose, I know. Look…" Rearview mirror. There was a car approaching behind us, still off in the distance. We had been driving through empty desert for a few minutes now. I pressed the accelerator. I didn't know who it was but they were bound to think it was weird that a car was driving through the desert without their lights on. Better to avoid them.

"Look what?" Ben inquired.

"Nothing. We'll get there as fast as we can. Once I'm close I'll call you again."

"Let me talk to Riley again!" I handed the phone over. I didn't know what they were saying. Mostly Ben buzzed at Riley, who 'uh-huh'ed and 'sure'ed. It made me nervous not knowing what they were talking about, but frankly, the car behind us was eating up most of my attention. They were definitely speeding. Did Tomas have a car? No, he had a motorcycle. This was a car. There were two other people at the establishment in Cleveland who could potentially be chasing me. As well as the police. Of course, maybe it was just a random speeding person. That could happen. It was a possibility.

They were still far enough away so I didn't think they could see me yet. I had to pull over somewhere, get out of the line of their headlights. Hopefully they'd drive by without noticing. I yanked the car as far onto the shoulder of the road as I could and slammed on the breaks, turned off the ignition. Popping open the glove box, I fumbled through all the random things one keeps in the glove box, a tire pressure checker and three maps of the southwest toppling out onto Riley's lap. He idly picked them up, still listening to Ben while simultaneously recovering from the sudden stop and worrying about the approaching car. He craned his head around to glance behind us. 

There, a map of this area of Utah. I wanted it to look like we were lost, should this person pull over. I unfolded the map, ruffling it out, not paying any attention on what I saw. The headlights started bathing the car in light. 

"Uh, yeah," Riley was saying to Ben. "Sorry about that. I'm a little distracted. We're in a potentially terrible situation at the moment… I may randomly start asking you about roads and such, just go with the flow…" My heart fell as the car behind us screeched to a similar halt on the opposite side of the road, weaving madly in the process. How many people were in there, three? Four? All young and unmistakably drunk. Just what we needed. I thought about just driving away at that point, but their car was much faster than mine was and the last thing I wanted was a high-speed chase with certainty of loosing. What was so interesting about a car on the side of the road, anyways? Why had they stopped? Much laughing was being had in the vehicle, and when the passenger's door opened the sound spilled out like a wave, carrying with it a young man with tangled blonde hair and extremely unsure footing. He started for my door, looking curiously concerned. I unrolled the window out of courtesy. He arrived and leant heavily on my door, reeking of beer.

"You guys… need help?" 

"No, I think we're good. We just got lost for a moment."

"You… you sure? We got a hook-up thingy in the trunk…" 

"No, the car's fine, we were just lost."

"Need directions? I think we got a map in there…"

"I have a map here, but thank you."

"No, I'll get the map. Getting lost out here… not good…" He continued mumbling to himself as he wove his way back to their car. I decided to wait. Accept the map, thank them, hopefully they'd leave. We couldn't stand to pause here for very long. I glanced at Riley. He had an amazed look on his face.

"Ben, you should see this. These guys are so smashed. I give them another hour before they crash." 

Voices suddenly rose in the car opposite us. Angry voices.

"He wants our map? Whoy… No! It's ours! He can't have it. Selfish bastard. Where is he?" Well that didn't sound good. This may be where I should have started up the car and driven away, taken my chances with their ability to drive straight. But I paused for a moment, watching. The driver had stumbled from the car and as he rounded the front of his vehicle I was horrified to see that he had a gun. And was pointing it at me, surprisingly steadily. Why this now? What were the chances of this happening? What would this guy want? 

"You give us our map back." Should I argue that we didn't, in fact, have his map? Probably not. I folded the map back up and handed it out the window. The driver now stood two feet from my sideview mirror, still pointing the gun, and reached out, snatching my map.

"Yeah, think you can just steal shit… Japanese people… Don't know what you think you're doing here." He leaned down, stared into the passenger seat.

"And who's that, your kid? Man, you did it with a white bitch?" I wanted badly to retort to all he'd said but that's difficult to do with a gun being waved in your face. I couldn't tell how drunk this guy was – his slurred speech and harsh words told me he was rather, but unless he talked about this kind of thing regularly, he was making some comparatively sharp observations about Riley and I. Should I risk knocking the gun from his hand, driving away? 

He backed away from my car and nonchalantly shot out the tires on the left side. I cursed loudly in my head. Couldn't anger him. What were we going to do now? No driving away. I could hear Ben's voice panicking on the other end. Riley assured him no one had been shot. 

The blond guy had staggered onto the pavement again.

"Come on, Bud. What are you doing?"

"Dude, he stole my map."

"No he didn't, you're map's here."

"Shuttup! Don't tell me where my maps are. I've got the gun, you'd better… you'd better…" He snarled instead of finishing his sentence. 

I heard sirens. So did the blond. 

"Bud, come on, cops are coming."

"You think I'm scared of the uniforms? Man, I can take any of them."

"Bud, come on!" Bud scoffed. I twitched. This was bad. I could see the lights in the distance and wondered who they were after, us or them. Not much we could do anyways. Bud stood in the middle of the road, muttering about cops and maps, wheels and whisky. 

"Bud, we're leaving without you. Goin' this way."

"Fine, go ahead. Cowards. I'll see you later, see what happens." The blond jumped into the driver's side door and soon the car wrenched forward and took off down the road, leaving impressive tire tracks. Bud stared after them. Then he turned to us. Smiled.

"So you guys… lost, eh? Need a map?" Maybe if we played innocent the police wouldn't suspect anything. I'd try to pin everything on Bud here, maybe the cops would pick him up and chase after his friends. The flashing lights were upon us now, slowing down and stopping. Two people jumped out of the car, hands on the tops of their guns. Bud was hiding his gun in his pocket, trying his best to stare around innocently. One cop approached my window, the other cautiously advanced on Bud, asking him what he was doing out there in the middle of the road.

The cop by our door was glaring at me rather suspiciously.

"Will you step out of the car, please?" Oh no. I opened the door, stepped out. He shone a flashlight in on Riley's face, who flinched and turned away. For the first time I noticed he had some pretty colorful facial decorations, evidence of Tomas's attention. 

"You too, step out of the car." Riley obliged, slowly removing himself from the vehicle. 

"Both of you put your hands on the hood." I moved to obey, mind racing. I had to do something. They knew what was up, they suspected. They were going to take us in if I didn't take action. 

A gunshot. All three of us whirled around to see the other policeman fall to the ground, Bud's gun aimed at him. Our policeman whipped out his weapon but I heard another gunshot first. I didn't see it, though. 

"Riley, _run!_" I barked, grabbing his arm as I rounded the hood of the car, and we leapt off of the shoulder of the road, slid down a sandy hill, and scrambled up into the sagebrush. I desperately wanted to turn around and see what was happening behind us but at the same time I didn't want to know, I wanted to _hide_. Once we were over this hill we'd be out of anyone's range. What if they chased us? Why wouldn't they? I'd think about that later. Run now. 

We were cresting the hill; I was grabbing at dead Mormon Tea plants and pulling myself over. I heard Bud's voice.

"Hey, where are you guys going? I just saved your asses. Come back!" We kept running, downward now, towards a tiny canyon a few dozen yards ahead.

"Hey! Come back! Come back you guys! I won't shoot you!" Panting, panic and fear tearing my breath away. The cold air was making my throat feel bloody.

"Come back, dammit!" A shot rang out behind us and we picked up our pace. I could barely see what was in front of me, thanks to the lack of stars or moon. Several times I stumbled over a rigid bush of some sort, or a piece of mysterious driftwood. Two more shots were fired behind us and I hoped he didn't have another cache of bullets on him. 

Into the canyon. We jumped and landed hard, even in the sand, spraying granular quartz into the grasses. Both sinking to our knees, rasping for air, feeling the chill of the night eating away at layers of warmth even through our movement.

"We'll hear if he comes," I panted. Bud didn't seem like the sneaky type. Riley sighed and fell backwards into the sand. I hoped he wasn't about to have another headache. He seemed to have a knack for getting them at the worst of times.

"Headache?"

"Not a cluster."

"Good."

"Still hurts like a bitch."

"You still have the cell phone?" Riley unfurled his fingers, revealing the cell. I reached over and took it. No reception. I put it in my pocket.

I wanted to ask, now what? But I didn't know, Riley didn't know, and this desert certainly didn't care. The wind was the only thing that seemed to have a goal. Let's see how long it takes to give these two people hypothermia. At least I was wearing long sleeves. Riley was wearing short sleeves. I had ordered that.

I hated myself for a moment. What had I been thinking? Where was my mind when it decided that doing such a thing would be worth it? Locking him in a freezer, chilling him, depriving his senses. All to kill the human race. Was I crazy? 

I hadn't been quite right, no. But not entirely wrong either. I had the wrong goal in mind, the wrong way of going about things. But with some tweaking, I still believed in my vision. I wasn't quite sure what I wanted anymore but I hadn't turned my back entirely on who I had been. 

Riley drew a breath and let out a shivering sigh. Why was he here? Why was he cooperating? Did he actually trust me? Surely not.

"Riley."

"Yeah?"

"Do you trust me?" I could have slapped myself. How sentimental was I about to get? I thanked the divine that the stars were not shining cheerily up in the heavens.

"No," was his immediate reply. A short pause stretched between us. 

"Well… right now, kinda. I mean -… never mind. I don't know. Awkward."

"Sorry."

"Whatever. What are we going to do?"

"I don't know. How are you feeling?"

"I feel like someone's been trying to brainwash me."

"Curiously, how much has it worked?"

"I don't know. I feel like…like a worthless… spineless pansy, I guess. Why the hell did I tell you that?" He sounded utterly disappointed in himself. He flipped over on his side so his back was facing me. What to say, what to do. I felt accomplished, but also tremendously guilty. And very cold. 

"We should move. Get to a better spot."

"Better spot. Right. Out here. Lots of really great spots to be out here."

"A place not so close to the road. We should try to get to those foothills, over where we aren't so exposed. We'll be able to see people coming up there."

"Then what'll we do? Hike to Price? Can't be that far. What, thirty miles away, that's not bad."

"It's about eight miles north of here. We'll hike there in the night. Sun's getting ready to come up now, though. We should find a place to stop. Maybe they'rll be reception up on the hills." That made Riley sit up.

"Wow, eight miles. Not bad. That's what I get for being a negative Nelly, I guess." We headed north. 

It was slow going in the dark and through the sand. I could see where the sun would emerge in a few hours; it was hard to perceive through the blanket of clouds. Maybe the wall of cloud ended out there somewhere. 

Critters shifted around us. Small reptiles, heaven knew what they were doing out in the cold, skittering over rocks and pebbles. Something galloping away, no doubt a lone mule deer. I hoped. A yipping, scuffling noise, probably a coyote. Did coyotes live out here? 

Something exploded from the brush in front of Riley, twigs and sand scattering and a wild thump-thumping of heavy feet escaping quickly. Riley jumped backwards a few steps, hands shielding himself. I wondered at the automatic responses of the human body. At the stupidity of jackrabbits. Riley groaned. We kept walking. Plodding. At least we were a bit warmer this way. I was, anyways.

**Riley**

_I just wanted to sleep. I didn't care if it was right here, in the middle of the desert filled with scorpions and stupid jackrabbits. And the cold. The cold was bad, and making me very nervous. Once we did stop the Chinese man would probably want us to sit together for warmth. As logical as that would be, I don't think I'd be able to handle the awkwardness of it. If these clouds would go away when the sun came up, we should be fine. And we'd get to Price tomorrow, we'd find Ben, and we'd drive away after finding the Blackwells. Preferably we'd be heading to Disneyland. It wasn't too far away, was it? _

_ Two cars were making their way up the road towards us. They didn't seem to be speeding, which was rather encouraging. I knew Chinese man had noticed them, he'd been glancing behind us every once in a while. Now the cars were approaching the site of a double murder and a wrecked car. _

_ "Stop a second," he said. We crouched low, watching. We hadn't really moved any further from the road, just further along it. Maybe thirty yards from the shoulder, we could probably avoid being seen if we lay down behind the bushes. _

_ The cars stopped, headlights turned off. A pause of about twenty seconds, and then a gunshot. I hate gunshots, even from this distance. The sound seemed to echo away hollowly, no-where for it to go but everywhere. Who'd been shot now? Chinese man cursed._

_ "I knew it, it's them. I think they just shot Bud. He probably told them where we went. Alright, let's go cross the road, approach the foothills from the left of the highway." He got up and started running, keeping low. I sighed inwardly, doubting this would work. Surely they'd see us crossing the road. But, then again, what did I know. Chinese man was most definitely smarter than me. I followed him. _

_ Before we even got to the road we hit disaster. We could hear rapid footsteps running down the road, running like a maniac. We dropped to the ground, eyes straining in the dark. A figure came into view. Pausing not ten yards in front of us, waving a gun around wildly, but with coordination, meaning it wasn't Bud. _

_ "Crandon?" I jumped at Chinese man's sudden harsh outburst. He sat up next to me. The man with the gun pointed it at us, and then lowered his weapon._

_ "Supervisor. What's going on here?" Chinese man grabbed my upper arm roughly, hauling me to my feet._

_ "It's Tomas. He doesn't want to go along with our plans. He was going to kill Riley and I stopped him. He got violent and told me he was going to call his gang and kill us both. What was he doing when we left?" What?_

_ "He told us you'd sprung the kid and were helping him escape." Chinese man laughed bitterly. He gave me a contemptuous glance. _

_ "May have looked like that. Had to get Riley to cooperate. Sorry, Riley. It was for your own good." He pulled me down the slope of sand, onto the shoulder of the road. Crandon still held his gun tightly._

_ "You can put that away, Crandon, he's harmless. Where's Brigham?"_

_ "He went looking for you out in the desert, went the way that drunk pointed."_

_ "Did you kill him? The drunk?"_

_ "Yeah. He was crazy. Totally mad." _

_ "Good. One less to deal with." I was staring at Chinese man in confusion, although trying not to. Was this an act? It had to be an act. It was the only sensible way to get past this obstacle. Although I couldn't see what Chinese man planned on doing in order to get out of this one. Someone came up over the hill, also holding a gun. Crandon hailed him._

_ "Briggs, I found 'em. Turns out Tomas is the bad egg here. This was the only way to save the plans."_

_ "Well shit, supervisor, and I was all ready to shoot you." Briggs slid down the sand hill and stomped off his shoes on the pavement. He approached us, shoving his gun in his belt._

_ "So now we gotta drive all the way back and do away with that Tomas fellow."_

_ "By the looks of it, yes." _

_ "What's wrong with the hacker, he looks like a deer in the headlights." Chinese man handed me off to Briggs like a wet, smelly sock. He didn't want to touch me._

_ "Had him thinking I was rescuing him, poor kid." He walked away from me then, heading in the direction of the car. Crandon followed, and Briggs started pulling me along with him._

Twang,_ said something in my head. Probably the most rapid onset into a headache I've ever experienced. I bent over, trying to cover my eyes with captive hands, stopped walking, sunk to my knees as Briggs, alarmed, stopped too._

_ "Hey, guy," he called. My ears were pounding; I could barely hear what Chinese man yelled back at him - _

_ "Just a headache, Briggs. He's going to moan about it now for the next half hour or so. Don't bother dragging him. We'll get the car and come pick you two up. Stay there." Through teary vision I saw two shadowy forms leaving us. Briggs hauled me to the side of the road and threw me down. _

_ "You're the hacker, huh? Don't look like much. Could probably kill you with my little finger." He was mostly muttering to himself. He continued muttering as I curled into the sand, hoping there weren't any scorpions here. I hated that feeling, the way the pain pushed into my eye, the pressure of a non-existent entity ruining the socket and the nerves behind it. Shouldn't these have ended by now? I'd stopped taking the atomoxitine… how long was it going to take to wear off? Where was Blackwell when I needed him handy with an injection? It was too late for me anyways, abortive efforts wouldn't work. I was in for another episode of sheer fun, accompanied by this goon who thought he could kick me in the ribs and cause me to actually care through my own internal anguish. What a conceited dingleberry._

_ Maybe I really liked having these headaches, then. When I'm having a headache I'm not effected by all the painful things other people do. I don't really feel the stupidity, the abandonment, the betrayal. I'm too absorbed in myself to fall into a pit of melodrama about other people. Too busy with 'poor Riley'-ing myself. It's not like anyone is going to do it for me. Someone has to feel bad for me. _

_ I almost choked on a laugh, amused at where my own thoughts were taking me. _

_ "What's funny?" asked Briggs._

_ "Poor me," I snickered._

**End o' chapter 14. I totally wung this one. Hoo mooch lunger veell thees gu oon?!**


	15. Chapter 15

So, Too old to be reading fanfiction (Totbrf) and Thuraya Known, thank you very much for your constructive reviews that last chapter

**So, Too old to be reading fanfiction (Totbrf) and Thuraya Known, thank you very much for your constructive reviews that last chapter! You're keeping me on track. I should mention how Riley looks, and keep in mind his reaction to light. Sometimes I forget about the characters and just push the story along, thanks for the reminders. Heh, and Totbrf, the fact that I forgot about Riley's shoes and didn't address some of the things you pointed out should be evidence enough I wung that chapter. So I'm going to try and deal with the shoe issue in this chapter. Thank you very much for that reminder. As for how long he's been shut in – yeah, I'm not really sure myself exactly, but I had it in my mind that it was about 2 days. Not very long.**

**Which at this point I should mention that for the sake of plot, we're speeding up the psychological things that happen during brainwashing. Usually that takes a few weeks or months to do, but I don't want to write about that. **

**So yes. I wasn't clear about that at all. Riley's been imprisoned for about two days. As for his ability to run, I'm going to attribute that to adrenaline… (which makes little sense, but…) **

**And the last thing you (Totbrf) mentioned, about the cycle of fear and pain and all – cluster headaches are also called suicide headaches, you've reminded me. I may or may not do something with that… And I'm glad you like this story so much! I'm very encouraged! It's definitely the longest and most involved story I've ever written, by far. It's good to know someone likes it, especially as I've recently decided to head towards an environmental writing major. Not that I'd be doing stuff like this, but still. And so I really appreciate all the constructive reviews people give me!**

**Oh, and I may be swinging back and forth between it being spring and it being fall… I guess it doesn't really matter for the plot, so pick whichever you want to believe, people. It's cold out. **

Chinese Man

The walk back to the car with Crandon flew. Time flies when you're having fun, they say. Time also flies when you're terrified out of your mind. Seems time only crawls when you're bored. I kept asking myself, could I do this? How long had I known Crandon, how faithful had be always been to me? I've known him for a while. He's been one of my most faithful assistants. We weren't best of friends but there was still a tie of trust between us.

We approached their car. Bud lay on the ground, shot through the skull, no doubt a well-placed bullet by Briggs. Crandon had never been much with aim. I noticed he avoided looking at the body as we walked by. Both of the policemen were quite apparently dead, sprawled on the pavement in a bloody heap.

"Let's move the bodies," I said. Next car that came along would no doubt alert even more authorities. The unresponsiveness of the pair of police to their base back in Cleveland would arouse suspicion fast enough. We leaned the two uniformed men against the right side of the police car, and placed Bud next to them. I looked down the road, making sure we were completely out of sight from Briggs.

We turned and headed back to Crandon's car, me keeping a step behind him. As he reached for the door handle I reached for the gun by his waist, trying not to think about what I was about to do - grabbed it, pulled it out of its case, Crandon whirling around, shocked, recoiling. I hadn't been fast enough. Could I still do it?

"Supervisor! What are you doing, put that down!" I grabbed him by the shoulder, tried to turn him around.

"Hands on the car, Crandon. I'm not going to shoot you. Just do it." Did I expect him to trust me now or something? But he did as I asked, glancing around and staring at the gun in my hand, not understanding what was going on.

I brought the butt of the gun down on the back of his head, and it made a very ugly thunking sound, which can be described in any number of cliché ways, most including something about rotten pumpkins. Let me attest that those metaphors are highly accurate. He immediately slumped onto the hood of the car, started sliding off. I caught him and lowered him to the ground. You see these knock-outs happen in movies all the time, but it's a thin line between knocking someone unconscious that way and stopping their other autonomic functions. I hoped against all else that I had done it right.

Checking his pulse and his breathing assured me he would live. Guilt pounding in my ears, I found his keys, pocketed them, and carried him to be in the company of the other three men.

Three innocents dead, one unconscious, hopefully not permanently damaged. Briggs was probably about to bite the dust. I'd have a hard time dealing with him. Was I even doing the right thing? I had just blown the perfect opportunity to change my mind and do what I'd begun doing so many years ago.

Well, it was rather too late now.

Shaking from the cold and adrenaline, I managed to get the keys in the ignition and start the car. Turn on the headlights? Why not. _Click_.

A jackrabbit stood in front of the car, a few yards ahead. How dumb could they get? They were worse than deer in the headlights. They were like rocks in the headlights. Surely it would move when I moved. I scooted forward and the rabbit's muscles tensed, but it did not budge. I sat for a moment, not wanting to honk at it. _Inch._ It didn't move. I opened my door and started to get out, which finally nudged it into movement – slow, nonchalant bounding across to the other side of the road.

Wait a moment.

Driving the car up to meet Briggs would be highly unintelligent. It wouldn't take Briggs long to notice the total lack of Crandon in the passenger seat. I turned off the lights again, and the ignition. Taking up the gun that I had put in the passenger seat in place of Crandon, I got out and started walking up the road. I was lucky there was a small hill in the road between me and Crandon, and as I approached the crest of it I lowered myself to the ground and continued, crawling on my belly. I peeked over the rise.

Briggs stood there, about fifty yards ahead, glaring around into the dark, appearing to mutter to himself. Riley lay in the dirt, clutching his head. Only slightly surprised Briggs wasn't in the act of abusing the kid in some way, I tried to take aim at the man. My hands shook, which I tried to ignore. I'd shot people before. What was my problem, why was I nervous? This was Briggs. His absence would barely be noticed. I closed my eyes for a moment.

Had to do this. No other choice. Right? Opened my eyes.

I took aim. Praying I wouldn't miss, my finger tightened on the trigger. I hated that sensation, that inevitable pressure, precursor to a murder. The resistance from the trigger made me want to give up and drop the gun.

_BAM_, too late. Bullet was loose, spent a mere sliver of time in the air before embedding itself into Brigg's chest. Cursing, I took aim again. I had been shooting for his head, a quick death. He didn't fall, just careened a few feet from the impact, didn't waste any time staring at his wound in disbelief. Took his own gun and aimed it up at me, that little lump on the horizon of the road.

I shot again, hitting him in the neck. He dropped his weapon and clutched at the wound, wetness spewing out between his fingers. It was a silent drama. I shot to my feet and booked it down the hill, legs flying – I felt like I was going to trip – and reached him as he writhed on the ground. His face was a mania of primal feelings, I perceived no humanity left. Placing the muzzle of the weapon to his temple, I forced my finger to twitch once more and closed my eyes to the sight that would surely follow. After the sharp noise and sudden silence I tuned immediately to Riley.

His pale shirt was now spotted with the blood of Briggs. He had sat up and backed away at the first shot I'd fired, and now simply stared at me, one hand attached to his temple.

"Oh man," he stated.

"I need to go get the car. Stay here, I'll be right back." I got up and started running up the hill, away from the scene. I felt bad leaving Riley sitting there next to an assuredly gruesome corpse and I wanted to ask Riley if he was alright, how he was feeling. Even more, however, I wanted to run away from what I'd done. Too many guilt-provoking things to be found down there. This course of action brought on its own guilt, though – that of selfishness.

I reached the car again, turned the ignition and started down the road. Soon I pulled over next to Riley, had to swerve in order to not further mutilate Briggs. Riley was laying down again, a dark shadow that any passerby would probably mistake for a roadkill muledeer, or small boulder. I got out and walked around the car, and knelt next to him.

"Riley?" I asked, suddenly conscious of my urge to put my hand on his shoulder. Especially given that he was probably just getting over realizing I hadn't, in fact, betrayed him, I didn't want to alarm him. However, he didn't respond to my voice. His eyes were closed.

"Riley! Are you alright?" He groaned quietly. My hand found itself on his shoulder, despite my thoughts. I chewed on things to say for a moment before settling for silent action. Taking a firm grip on his shoulders, I hauled him upright and tried to support his weight for him, as his legs didn't seem to want to do the job.

"Come on, Riley…" He wasn't responding. I put an arm under his knees and lifted him up. I grumbled about how I was too old to be doing this sort of thing as I attempted to place Riley across the backseat with as little stuffing as possible, but the angle was quite awkward. Unfortunately Riley was, at this point, apparently completely unconscious and no help whatsoever in trying to determine whether the position he was in was a comfortable one.

His pulse and breathing seemed normal to me, his pupils the same size. Good enough. Had to get driving. Turned the key, started up the heat. I switched my headlights on and flipped open my cell phone as I drove away, catching a glimpse of the mangled body on the pavement behind me in the rear view window. Hating the guilt I felt, I found Cell 3 again and listened to it dial. It rung once.

"Hello?"

"Ben."

"What's going on?"

"We ran into some trouble, I'll explain when we get to Price. Riley's not doing very good but I think he'll live. We're-"

"Was he shot?"

"No, he's just unconscious. We're driving to Price now. We'll probably be there in about five minutes. Are you still in the auto insurance center?"

"No, I didn't want to loiter there. I'm in the LoPrice Mall. The arcade. It's the only place open right now," he added, as if an explanation was necessary.

"Ok, I know where that is. Six minutes, meet us in the parking lot. And Ben-"

"What?"

"Don't call anyone on us."

"The police are after me, not you. Don't worry, I'll be there." I kept silent about our police situation. After shutting the phone and tossing it onto the passenger seat, I glanced over my shoulder at Riley. Still seemed to be out cold. I trained my eyes on the road ahead, wondering if I should be trying to think about something. There were so many things to think about. My future, my guilt, Riley's condition, where the Blackwells were, what Finn and the rest would do, where Tomas was, if the rest of the group back in Cleveland were going to start up emergency procedures. If I cared if they did that.

The glow on the horizon that had been the light pollution of Price manifested itself as individual buildings. I navigated the complex overpasses around the city, finding the eastern entrance to main pretty quickly, keeping my mind from thinking anything at all.

Before I knew it I was before the LoPrice Mall parking lot, staring at the 24 hr arcade. I hadn't even been watching out for police, and there was one approaching form the other side of the street. Driving slowly, however. I had to assume it wasn't after me, or my head might explode. I slowly navigated my way into the parking lot, looking around for Ben. A woman was strutting self-righteously to her car, tan briefcase matching her knee-length tube skirt, stiletto heals stabbing the pavement. A small child loitered, staring, at the base of a bare cherry tree planted among the wood chips of a lot island, mother doing a double-take and backtracking in order to fetch him. A man in an obnoxiously bright sun-hat was seated on a wooden bench, reading a brochure. Next to him sat another man who took up a good portion of the bench, consuming what looked like a ham and cheese croissant sandwich. I had to wonder what these people were doing up so ridiculously early. And why the man was eating a sandwich instead of a muffin.

The man with the hat glanced up at the sound of my approaching car, and stood. I had been wrong, that was Ben. I suppressed a chuckle. That would warrant a story. He strode up to the car and opened the passenger side door, glancing from side to side in what he probably thought was a rather sneaky manner. I was watching out for anything weird myself, and once the door slammed I took my foot off the brakes, trying to make my driving look calm as my mind screamed for my nerves to seize up.

Before anything else, Ben craned his head around in his seat and stared at Riley.

"Riley!" He reached out with his left hand and gently shook Riley's wrist, which hung over the edge of the backseat.

"It's Ben! Riley!" I could tell by the tone of his voice and the look on his face that Ben, despite his previous caution, had probably dismissed all other worries for the moment.

"He's out, Ben."

"How long has he been like this?"

"Maybe ten, fifteen minutes. It's hard to say."

"Why?" I told him what had happened in the past few hours, from our quite undramatic escape to our encounter with a load of drunks, to the police, to Crandon and the late Briggs. I must have sounded quite monotonous, as I was concentrating not on my story but on our surroundings. Apparently there were two sets of police out for us, as well as any number of my own people, most terrifyingly Tomas, and Finn's group. It seemed improbable that no-one knew of our whereabouts. Ben listened in what I would call slightly horrified fascination, frequently turning around to stare at Riley. When I got to the end of my story and the end of this particular road, I turned left, and asked Ben what, exactly, had happened.

**Ben**

"Well, I was thrown in a cell for some immeasurable amount of time, fed liquid hell, sat there, worried, slept some, and then the police came and busted me out. Blackwells and their car were gone by the time the police got there. They arrested your guys, I stole a kid's bike, and I escaped. Pretty simple." The Chinese man didn't respond to my short narrative and I didn't really expect him to. There was nothing to respond to. I looked at the clock – it was early morning and the sun should be up soon.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Not sure."

"Have any plans at all?"

"No."

"What about the rest of you people, what are they doing?"

"I don't know."

"Do you think they're going to start that backup act?"

"I don't know."

"Well, we should find out. How can we prevent it? What _is _the backup movement?"

"What, you're just assuming I'm going to tell you everything all of a sudden?" I paused for a moment.

"Well… yes, I do. If you're going to be wishy-washy about this, things may not run very smoothly and I think given the current situation and the fact that we're all three in pretty big trouble, it would work best for us if we cooperated."

"Hat."

"What did you say?"

"I didn't say anything." I turned in my seat.

"Riley!" His eyes were open, albeit cracked. He was staring dazedly at the top of my head. I was still wearing my ridiculous hat. It seemed rather funny that I'd been trying to make a serious argument while donning such a ghastly article of clothing. I ripped it off.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm good." His voice was weak, as was his tone, his face dripped misery and unhappiness, and clearly he was lying.

"You lying punk," I said, an involuntary smile manifesting itself across my face.

"I'm glad to see you awake. I wish this reunion could be more dramatic and tearful but we may be being chased by about six groups of people that want us dead or in jail."

"Ben?"

"What?"

"Hat?" He was utterly confused.

"It was my disguise." He had a puzzled look on his face.

"I know, I know, tie-dye floppy hat with cartoon bears, not exactly inconspicuous." A smile appeared stealthily on his face, if slight and temporary, but it was an amazing solace to know that he could still smile. I didn't know what had been done to him but it can't have been anything less than disturbing.

"That's a Rastafarian Hippie Hat with Grateful Dead Dancing Bears on it," he said.

"Is it really?" The true identity of my hat was, although mildly interesting, dwarfed by my happiness that Riley still had enough of a mind to remember these things. Maybe things hadn't been so bad for him. I'd have to ask the Chinese man about what had happened. I didn't think asking Riley would be quite the smartest thing to do.

"What?" grumped Riley. Had I been staring? Yes. Oh well. I turned serious.

"It's good to see you, Riley. Really. I'm… thankful." I held his gaze, trying to communicate my sentiments.

"Oh."

That was all he said.

I watched his expression. Had I not noticed before? His eyes seemed shifty, downcast, afraid to look up. His mouth drooped in an almost imperceptible snarl of unhappiness that I would have thought, given the circumstances, would have been replaced by a relieved, or at least somewhat more happy, smile type thing.

He closed his eyes again, turning slightly away from my gaze. After a moment I turned back around in my chair. How was I going to deal with this one? I should have been asking myself, how was _Riley _going to deal with this one? In the past I'd been able to help him with whatever problem he had deemed worthy of sharing with me, but his Rilyisms had all been the same. This time his very personality was different… worse.

I wondered if he'd let me help him. I wondered if I was even able. As clueless as I was at the moment, I doubted my abilities and that made me feel a bit like I'd let him down.

There was a break in the clouds on the eastern horizon, and the Earth was finally turning Utah towards the sunrise. The bottoms of the overhead clouds were becoming stained with giant splashes of pink, the color carefree wonder roses take on in twilight. Or the color of my grandmother's sewing room, that secretive mauve tainted with sunlight coming through the venetian blinds.

We were out of Price. Driving East, through a gap in the low stretch of confused foothills, heading towards nothing that I could see.

"What about the Blackwells?" I muttered, wondering if I should say it out loud. The Chinese man didn't reply for a moment and I wondered if he'd been too wrapped up in his own thoughts, of which I'm sure there were many, to have heard me.

"Either they were against you two all along or Finn and his men moved them somewhere while you were locked away." Those options had been wandering around in my mind but I hadn't acknowledged them until I heard them. Having acknowledged them, my mind seemed to take this as a cue to not think about it anymore. There was somewhere else it wished to alight. Riley – wherever my mind went, it always seemed to return to that particular worry. I turned and watched him, still curled on the seat. Bright, tawny sunlight was coming through the windshield and hitting his side.

I could see dark spots on his grey shirt, some tiny and a few larger ones. My heart leapt into my throat for a second, but I ordered it to back down. Riley may be hurt. I would have been stupid to think that he wasn't hurt. Something about the sight of blood on his shirt made my own blood start to boil, made me unnecessarily angry. But it was only blood. It didn't mean anything near as dire as my automatic response told me it meant.

I couldn't, however, keep my mouth shut.

"Riley, are you bleeding?" He turned his head slightly towards me.

"What?"

"Are you bleeding? There's blood on your shirt." He looked down at his shirt curiously.

"Um… I don't know…"

"More than likely," said the Chinese man, "it's not his. I'm afraid he may have been hit with someone else's though." I stared at the blood stains. I saw some splattering patterns, but I thought I could also make out some spreading shapes.

"Some of them, maybe. Some of that looks like his. Can we pull over?"

"Pull…?"

"I want to know if he's bleeding. Pull over." Riley tried to sit up.

"Ben, we can't, we're being chased. I'm fine."

"Lay back down." My tone of voice was a bit harsher than I would have liked it to sound, but it echoed perfectly my sentiments. Riley lay back down, confused and a bit annoyed. The Chinese man glanced at me.

"Ben, we can't pull over. Riley's right, we need to keep moving." I sighed, exasperated. The truth of the matter was that if we stopped we'd be found for sure. Sometime. We couldn't afford to pull over, they were both right.

"Riley, move over."

"What?"

"I'm climbing in back."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

"I can't, I'm too sore." I unbuckled my seatbelt and turned completely in my seat.

"Move."

"You just said to lie back down!"

"Riley?"

"Fine." His arguments weren't their usual whining, mock-annoyance; these were genuine grumpy, antisocial feelings coming through. He painstakingly shifted himself to occupy as little of the backseat as possible, a process which he made look very authentically painful. I awkwardly maneuvered myself into the backseat and was met with a reproachful gaze from Riley. A bit shocked, I stared back at him for a moment. I wanted to ask him, what was wrong, why was he so irritated, why didn't he seem glad to see me? Personally I was relieved as all hell to see him alive and his current behavior was a bit more than alarming.

"Alright, Riley, I understand this is awkward, but tell me where it hurts."

"Everywhere."

"Anywhere especially?" He thought before answering, although I doubt he was thinking about my question.

"My head, my elbow, my feet…Lord, I don't know. Everything." He shut his eyes for a moment, leaning his forehead against he window. For the first time, I noticed he wasn't wearing any shoes, just a pair of socks, which appeared to be stained with blood.

"What happened to your feet?"

"I don't know, I was running through the desert in the dark with numb feet, I probably stepped on a few cactuses."

"It's cacti. Lift up your shirt."

"No!" His eyes sprung open and he glared at me, a look I'd never seen issue from his face before, especially not at me. I stared back at him.

"I just want to know the extent of your injuries."

"They're not bad. I'd be dead if they were. I'm fine."

"That's a lot of blood."

"Not really."

"Yes, really, God dammit, and you're making me nervous, it's like you're hiding something."

"I… It's just a cut. I swear, I'm fine." To push or not to push? What did it matter in the long run? What difference would it make if I knew the extent of his injuries? I wasn't Blackwell, I wouldn't have some magical way to disinfect it or stop whatever bleeding may be going on, or set any bones that may be broken. However, not to know would make me feel ignorant. My concern for him demanded to discover what was wrong. My respect for him wanted to hold back.

Maybe he just had low blood sugar, I mused hopefully.

"Well… Have you eaten lately?" I asked. He scoffed.

"Last time I ate was back at the clinic." I leaned forward, sticking my head between the passenger and the driver's seat.

"You didn't feed him?"

"Don't question me about past actions. You think I haven't thought about that enough myself?"

"What were you _thinking_?"

"What are _you _thinking, Ben, you don't even understand what our reasons were-"

"Reasons to kidnap, starve, and torture someone?"

"Three days without food is hardly starvation."

"So you admit you did torture him?"

"I didn't lay a hand on him." My grip on the back of the seat in front of me was turning my knuckles white.

"Well _someone _did, obviously, and even though you may not have taken part, it was all your idea, you set it into motion-"

"You deviate, Ben," he stated, slamming his hand on the steering wheel. "Again, you can't possibly understand right now why we did what we did."

"Tell me then!"

"Right now? You won't listen, you're too clouded with your own perceptions-"

"Hey guys?" Riley's voice stopped our mounting argument cold.

"Can we stop?" I turned to Riley.

"Why, what's wrong?"

"I want to get out." I felt I owed it to him to at least let him out if he wanted out, even if it was more than likely a bad idea. Besides, his face was so draped in misery I couldn't quite bring myself to voice the practical argument against it. It was as if he suddenly wanted to cry, but didn't have the energy to.

The Chinese man turned left onto a Bear Creek Road, and rumbled down the gravel for a mile or two. I wanted to yell at him still - my anger at him wasn't diminishing – if it was doing anything at all it was growing. I didn't understand what he was, why he did what he did. He was playing opposite sides of the same game and it was confusing me. But for the sake of Riley and my own sanity I kept my mouth shut until the Chinese man pulled over in a grove of midget pine trees, gathered in the valley of an almost-dry streambed.

Riley wasted no time exiting the vehicle – his quick movements surprised me and I wondered if he was going to be sick or something. But from the moment his feet hit the ground, his eyes were fastened in one direction, and as I sprung out the side door and approached him he waved me away. The Chinese man turned off the car and got out, but made no move to help Riley. Did he even need helping? He was walking towards a small hill purposefully, the gnarled roots of a stunted pine snaking over, around, and into a sandstone slab at the top.

"Riley," I called, "Where are you going?"

"Just want to sit." I turned to the Chinese man. His eyes were following Riley's path up to the top of the hill. It disturbed me that this man would be so concerned about Riley and yet, not a day ago, he'd been ruining the kid.

"So, care to explain what's going on?" I asked. He turned to me, looking contemplative.

"Are you willing to hear my words as I mean them and not twist them into your own perception?" What the hell did that mean? I stared for a moment. I felt like getting really pissed at him – apparently this guy thought I didn't have a reason to be mad at him. I nodded, though.

"Just tell me what happened."

"Ben…" He looked at the ground, then up at the clearing sky.

"What happened… back there in Cleveland, it's all so confusing to me. Telling you isn't going to help anything, I think. There are two visions inside of me right now and one doesn't regret what happened. That one wishes I hadn't helped Riley escape. More generally that one still wants a New Earth. But… Riley has… he broke my resolve. Instilled doubt, I guess. And now I don't know what to believe."

"So, there's still a part of you in there that wants to lock Riley back up and kill everybody?"

"Yes, Ben, there is. Locking Riley up isn't something I'd want to do, though – I simply want Riley's help in achieving my goal. Or part of me does."

I didn't know what to say. That part of him that wanted mass death was so against my values that I had trouble thinking that there was even a shred of truth to that vision.

"You realize that that makes it very hard for me to trust you?" I asked. He nodded. My eyes darted up the hill. I couldn't see Riley.

"Where did he go?" I asked. The Chinese man turned around, scanned. We both started up the hill, worrying Riley had found some cliff to fall off of. But it quickly became apparent that Riley had simply sat down against the piñon pine, gazing east. I crouched down next to him.

"How are you doing?"

"I don't know." His face still looked miserable, like he wanted to cry. I noticed, for the first time in the cold morning light, the bruises – a few angry looking purple and blue shapes were scattered across his features, and both his arms had evidence of rough treatment. Feeling slightly sick to my stomach, I lowered myself next to him and took a seat. The Chinese man stood to the side. I wondered how awkward this was for him.

Riley was holding his elbow, I noticed. What if it was broken?

"Give me your arm," I said, holding out my hands. He simply looked at me in question.

"I want to see if it's broken."

"It's not."

"How do you know?"

"Ben, it's not broken."

"Could be dislocated, twisted, fractured, you may have your ulnar nerve trapped, a muscle could have ripped, there are a lot of-"

"Yes, Ben, I get it, thank you. I'm sure there's something wrong with my elbow, but you sure as hell can't do anything about it." His face turned back to the east. I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say. Standing up, I wandered a little to the left. What was wrong with him? Why was he being so bitter? I turned and eyed him. His face was being lit up by the bright light of a sunrise.

The Chinese man carefully, slowly lowered himself onto the ground that I'd just vacated. I couldn't believe his nerve. Obviously Riley didn't want company, he wanted to sit and brood by himself. He'd get over it in time. He certainly didn't need his previous captor sitting there trying to make him feel better. Did Riley even know that that man still kind of wanted to throw him back in a cell and torture him into helping them kill everyone?

Scoffing to myself, I watched Riley, hoping, waiting for him to sneer, glare, maybe even get up and move somewhere else.

But instead, Riley finally, _finally _shed a tear. The only reason I could see it from where I stood was because the reflection of the new born sun was winking off the moisture, creating a little shimmering star on my friend's cheek. It fell down his skin, got tangled in his three-day shadow, and disappeared. What was he wishing?

They were both gazing to the east now, together, as if they were friends going through a hard time, trying to appreciate a moment of beauty. It wasn't even that spectacular of a sunrise. There were no longer any fantastic pinks and reds lighting the overhead clouds on fire. The sun was merely rising from between some shallow mountain peaks, a white spot of pure light waking up slowly.

Or waking the desert up slowly. It was odd how the white sun cast yellow light. It hit the needles and tiny pinecones of the trees and made everything _look _warmer. The long shadows it cast off the mountains were crawling back up to meet their makers, revealing the tan and red rock and sand, small desert plants scattered and spotted across the expanses. There were other streambeds between us and the mountains, one of which had a shining, silver rivulet of water running through it. That one was especially crowded with plant life, the yellow beeflower Riley had pointed out to me so long ago at the gas station, before we'd met Laudes, proliferating among what I guessed was either Cheatgrass or Foxtail Chess, the red fuzz covering the bacteria-laden soil.

The clouds _were _retreating. Blue sky was pushing away the grey, pushing them _west_, which I found highly unusual. Bright blue against the alarmingly vibrant green of the pines, with a backdrop of orange desert; the colors seemed so fresh.

Everything seemed fresh. The air was pure and crisp and I felt as if I'd never breathed air quite like it before. Maybe it was the new sunlight everywhere.

"This," Riley said, breaking the silence. The way he said it told me it was directed at the Chinese man, though. Did he know I could hear him? What was he going to say to the Chinese man that he wouldn't say to me?

"This makes me think you were right." The Chinese man didn't reply for a moment, but when he did, it was thoughtful, quiet.

"It is why I did what I did."

"I think I understand better now." Another silence. The wind blew past through the trees, rattling the needles and swaying the bushes. What were they talking about? I felt so left out of the loop. Why did Riley think he could say things like this to this Chinese man, who'd done so many weird things to him? It almost sounded as if they were talking about why the Chinese man had done those terrible things, and Riley seemed to be agreeing with him.

"But then…" The man's eyes finally left the sunrise and traveled to the golden ground he sat upon.

"You made me think about things… Some part of me thinks there is hope for humanity. A very small part of me and a very small hope. It's there."

"That's kind of weird…" Riley muttered. "The more I think about things the more I lose hope for us. But then I think, maybe it's not so bad. If nothing is done… we'll continue like this and eventually we'll meet our end by our own hands… Sooner or later we'll be gone, and the Earth will still be here."

"We do seem to underestimate its resilience." Another silence stretched. What, when had Riley and the Chinese man become philosophy buddies? The Chinese man was probably trying to lure Riley into a false sense of trust, and soon he'd take advantage of that. No, I was jumping to conclusions. From what Riley had just said I could at least conclude that something that had happened to him back in Cleveland had convinced him that humanity was doomed, whatever anyone decided to do. That in itself was very sad.

What brought me down the most was the fact that I'd apparently been replaced by the Chinese man to Riley. I could see no reason for that and it concerned me and made me very upset. What had I done? What was he thinking? Hopefully I'd be able to pry it out of Riley later on when we were out of this mess.

"Sooooo… I don't mean to break this beautiful moment, but we need to get moving. _I _at least think Riley needs some food, we all need warmer clothes, and there are things to be done." The Chinese man rose to his feet and then, and here I made a conscious effort to keep my mouth shut, helped Riley up. Would Riley have accepted my help? Probably not.

_It's psychological,_ I told myself furiously as we headed down the hill. _There's a psychological reason this is happening. Everything will be back to normal soon enough._

_He's obviously traumatized._ I got to the front door and opened it, wondering if I was the one that was about to start crying now. I sat down, and caught Riley's eyes on me in the rear view mirror. I turned around but he was looking out the window.

_Does he even remember who I am?_

**Lots of schtuff! I've been trying to finish this one for the past week but I couldn't find a good stopping spot. As it is I'm not happy with the ending, but hey, it's not going to an editor so I don't mind…**

**I know this isn't the place to complain about real life, but… complain. It's hard to write this stuff when your mind is elsewhere! I don't need the death of the whole human race to put me in a bitter mood. But it's sunny out at least! And 42 degrees! I should be outside enjoying the day!**


	16. Chapter 16

Teh heh heh

**Teh heh heh. This thing isn't quite dead yet… Thanks to Totbrf, and Rachel. I needed a reminder to continue this, it had fallen to the back burner. Thank you for your motivation and encouragement! **

**And I likely have some continuity errors or something in this… I don't remember everything that's happened so far, so if anyone notices a mistake or something, please don't hesitate to point it out. **

**I disclaim again. **

**Riley**

I wanted to loose myself in the passing landscape.

I remembered being driven across the American West eighteen years ago in my parents' minivan. Staring out the open window, we'd just taken off from the campground on the way to the Bighorn Mountains, the sun had just risen. Gleaming off the dew settled like treasure across the plains, foothills in the distance. I couldn't keep my eyes open, Dad had woken me up far too early. I didn't care about getting to the mountains, at least not at that moment. My sleeping bag would have been a fine place to spend the next week. But there, leaning against the car window, watching Montana crawl by lit up by the new sun, well, that was okay. And then I saw those bodies of galloping wilderness, black manes flying out behind them, sunlight setting their already golden fur aflame. Mustangs, and I laughed. Not in delight but in disbelief. I hadn't even known mustangs still existed in the wild, and this scene was just too classic to take it like it was.

But it had been beautiful.

If all the world could have seen it. If all the world could have been like that, beauty and wilderness and freedom all the time.

Right now, though, rumbling down Bear Creek Road, here I was again, stuck in the back of another vehicle, watching a different and less romantic landscape creep by, sans mustangs. I could have still lost myself in the light. Were it not for the past few days.

How nice would it have been to just never have gotten started with the damned headaches, not ended up in that clinic, not met the Blackwells or Jeremy, not been kidnapped… how the hell had the Chinese Man found us in the first place, anyways? Why couldn't we have just gotten the mission over with and been done with it?

It wasn't exactly the type of mission to _just get over with_, like that. It was a little too big. But what kind of higher being would let this kind of thing happen? Sure, while I was in the mood to wallow in self-pity, why had it all happened to me? Cluster headaches, concussions, collapsing burning buildings, kidnapped, tortured, starved, brainwashed… woe is me. I hated myself for not getting up. Couldn't I just stand on my own two feet? It'd been tough, sure, but I had to get up. I couldn't just lay here in the backseat and expect people to take care of me.

And what the hell was going on with the Chinese Man and Ben? What was I doing? What was wrong with me? I didn't know. I missed Ben. I wanted to tell him that I was relieved to see him alive and once again being with him gave me a strange and inappropriate inkling of a sensation of hope. But I couldn't say it. I couldn't even say it to myself. Because I'd tell myself, _Ben doesn't care._

Idiot. Obviously Ben cared. He cared like a mother, he wanted to hover over me and make sure I was alright and put his own mind at ease because he couldn't stand the thought of me being miserable. Why was I pushing him away?

Why was my life like a soap opera now?

And why was I letting the Chinese Man in on things while I put up a barrier in front of Ben?

Why did I even care… I wished this was a dream. Maybe I'd wake up soon. I could only hope. I didn't want to think about anything anymore. Anything. If that stupid pain in my side and my feet and my elbow would just let me sleep, or the misery let me alone. Where did that feeling even come from? Sure, it sucked, everything sucked. But we were either going to die or we'd pull through and that would be that. But this stupid sense of anger and misery and self-loathing and loneliness wouldn't go away, I couldn't stop thinking about it. I couldn't dismiss it.

Kind of like if a polar bear was sitting on you. A small one, so it didn't quite kill you. You'd have no idea where it came from but you sure as heck wouldn't be able to get rid of it.

Grateful that I didn't actually have a polar bear on my head, I snorted.

**Chinese Man**

My eyes darted to the rearview mirror for a moment, wondering what Riley was snorting at. I couldn't see his face in the mirror, but Ben glanced backwards, questioning.

"What?" asked Riley.

"What were you laughing at?"

"There is," said Riley, with a scholarly air, "no polar bear on my head. And, Ben, for that, I am grateful." I felt a stab of worry in my chest – was there something wrong with him? Had we accidently broken him? Had he lost it? But Ben was smiling now. He gave a little chuckle.

"I don't want to know, Riley." And when Ben turned around he was still smiling and I had to assume that this was some personal thing passing between them.

I had felt bad about taking Ben's place for a moment back there. I hadn't meant to, it had just happened. I'd noticed the way Ben had watched us as we sat there under the pinion pine, he probably thought we were going to run off and open an organic veggie stand, the way we were acting. Totally inappropriate, given the past few days. But it wasn't what _happened _during those days that stuck with us. It lingered but stronger than that was this issue of the future of the human race, a rather important topic to consider. And at the moment we were bonded by that possibility, by the future we could bring together.

Riley certainly wasn't going to make any decisions for me, though. He didn't know what was going on. It was up to me. What were we going to do? We couldn't just stall forever. We'd stalled enough as it was. _I _needed to make some decision.

So the options were to either bring Riley back to Cleveland and continue the way I'd originally been doing things… which wouldn't work. All that I'd done since we escaped wouldn't let me do that now. I'd saved Riley, taken care of him, had discussions with him about the future. Going back to brainwashing him seemed… crude. I'd feel like a dirty sock tossed in the gutter. If I decided to go ahead and try to recruit his help I'd have to do it a different way. I'd have to first convince myself that it was the right thing to do, then I'd have to find a way to convince _him _to allow the operation to follow through. And we may be able to find a different hacker to help us if Riley didn't comply, but it would take a while.

If we didn't do that, we could sit here and wait for Tomas and the others to initiate the emergency plan, and expect something terrible to happen to the entire human race, ourselves included, in the next few days. Or, we could go try and foil their plan. _My _plan? No, not exactly. I'd helped come up with it but I wasn't the keystone behind everything. I had no idea who _was _behind everything. But if we decided to take action against this operation, we'd need Riley, and if Riley complied, we'd be able to discontinue everything safely, if Riley indeed possessed those kinds of 'crazy skills', as I suppose they called them.

Man, Bear Creek Road was a lot longer than I'd remembered it being. I pulled the car up to the intersection with the interstate. And paused.

A lot of this banked on Riley complying. How was he doing in his current position? Was he malleable now, would he bend to what I wanted, or was he hardened now to the point of indestructible will? Or would he break if I put pressure on him?

I needed to make the decision first. Make a decision. Take a stance. I can't be on both sides of the fences, now.

Had to stop this.

Okay. That _is _what I felt. The most, anyways. Killing everyone like this didn't seem right. And it _would _happen if nothing was done. Now or within the next few years, it didn't matter, it would happen if I didn't do something. I'd regret the loss of what could have been, but I'd regret even more the means it took to get there.

So we had to do something.

I turned west.

Oh, I wavered on the fence still. But I'd pretend for my own sake, push the other side away, try to fall to the side. Gravity wasn't quite working.

"We're going back to Cleveland."

**Ben**

"Why?"

"To foil my plan."

"Oh." I didn't know what question to ask first.

"How are we foiling what plan?"

"We are going to attempt to foil the plan I helped set into motion to wipe out the human race. Both of them."

"Both of them?"

"Yes, the long-term one and the one for emergencies, which we can only hope hasn't been started yet."

"And… how?"

"Riley." I sighed. Not Riley again. I glanced into the backseat. Riley was sitting up and listening.

"Riley, you're going to need to do some serious hacking. We need to somehow get back to Cleveland without being noticed and you'll need to do your best to destroy a bunch of online files."

"Um."

"In a very particular order, too, it's going to be a bit like juggling eggs."

"Ah. And-"

"What _is _the plan?" I asked.

"Which one?"

"For us, how can we do that?"

"Say guys, you-"

"It'll have to be carefully done, this is a very guarded organization."

"Hey!" Riley was trying to hand me something from the backseat. I took it and almost dropped it. The cell phone was vibrating.

"Oh," I said. I almost opened it, but the Chinese Man's hand whipped from the wheel and snatched it from my hands, muttering something about why Riley had his cell phone in the first place. He didn't open it, just stared at the screen.

"It's Crandon!" he exclaimed.

"Who?" I asked.

"Oh, that guy you conked," said Riley.

"Yeah, that one. What… he woke up already." The Chinese Man still didn't open the phone, just held it. Eventually it stopped ringing, but a moment later a little red light started blinking off the top of the shiny black phone.

"Left a message, look," I said, pointing. He finally flipped the phone open and pressed a few buttons, held the phone out. He'd put it on speaker. I hadn't even known you could do that with cell phones. There was a beep, then Crandon's voice.

"_Um…. Hi… " _He sounded as if he'd just woken up, kind of groggy and speech slurred. _"So I just… woke up a few minutes ago next to some dead cops… heard some sirens coming, went over a hill, I'm hiding out here… somewhere… I don't remember what happened, I think me and you were going to get the car? The car is gone but I guess someone knocked me out because I've got blood on my head and a bruise. Wondered if you were still alive, I guess…" _His voice drifted off for a moment. He coughed. _"So anyways… yeah, if you get this, call me back, I'm really confused… I don't really remember where we are and I can't see Briggs. Um… bye." _

The Chinese Man flipped shut his phone and shoved it in his pocket. He sighed. I couldn't help but be curious.

"Who's Crandon?"

"Someone who worked for me. I had to knock him out to steal this car. I feel kind of bad for him. I hope I didn't damage him too bad."

"Such compassion," I said, before I had a chance to stop myself. Stinging remarks had no place in a situation like this. It had begun to seem like things may loosen up a bit between the Chinese Man and I, why had I said that? But he didn't seem to have heard. He stared absently, or apparently absently, on the road ahead of him.

"How long's it gonna take to get back to Cleveland?" I asked.

"I don't know, maybe an hour."

"What do we do when we get there?"

"We're going to park about a mile from the library, stop somewhere and get some proper clothes and food, then we'll keep an eye on things while Riley sneaks into the library, accesses the basement files, picks up SQ7R, locks himself into the-"

"Wait a sec, isn't that Ben's job? I'm supposed to be the one keeping watch while Ben sneaks around and steals things." Riley _almost _sounded like his old whiney self.

"I'm not sure how we're going to handle this without being caught yet," the Chinese Man said, "but I'd be too recognizable to go waltzing into that building. We've got people in there and I don't know if they know what's going on yet. Ben, you might be too recognizable too." Riley sputtered.

"What, and I'm not? You think I can handle doing all that and not get caught? I have no idea how to-"

"Just the bones, Riley, just the bones. We'll work out a real plan, don't worry."

"Don't worry. Ha. I'll stop worrying if you'll stop breathing." I watched Riley cross his arms grumpily, then wince in pain and cradle his elbow. Again, the instinct to find out what was wrong with it bubbled up inside of me but I said nothing. I couldn't help but wonder if Blackwell would be able to do anything about it. Blackwell would have probably been able to do something about his elbow, his feet, his head, and any other weird injuries he was hiding. And if Blackwell wasn't able to make Riley reveal his secrets, Century would have been able to, either using her practical charm or simply because Riley wouldn't want to offend a nice old lady.

"So when we get to the library we'll scope things out. Riley, I'll give you a key and directions to the basement. There shouldn't be anyone down there right now, I hope, so when-"

"You hope? What if you're wrong? What if there's someone down there waiting to shank the first person that comes waltzing down the stairs?" The Chinese Man paused after hearing Riley's questions.

"Ok, you're right, that's too big of a risk."

"Why do we need those SQ whatever files anyways?" asked Riley.

"They have the stuff you're going to need to be able to hack into our network and… and do whatever we need to do."

"Why can't you just get in yourself, it's your network."

"No-one but the biggest wigs can get into the network."

"You're not the biggest wig?"

"No, definitely not. There are bigger people behind this."

"And you don't know what to do once I potentially hack into the network?"

"I don't know what's in there. I mean I can probably figure it out once I see it all but I have no idea what we'll run into." Silence descended on our party like a big blanket made out of clichés and overused metaphors. It occurred to me how dangerous this operation was going to be. It seemed to be the only way to go about things at the moment but it had so many risks, so many 'ifs'. So many doubts. And yet, it was the only thing we could do at the moment, apparently. At least we were trying to get at the root of the problem, not skirt around it, troubleshooting. Here we went. Kind of like ramming one's spaceship into a comet approaching Earth, hoping it will knock the giant rock off-course enough to have it avoid impact. No matter that we'd all die in the process.

Did I really think we were all going to die? No… I still had a sliver of hope.

I felt a pang of loneliness. I wanted to talk to my parents, I wanted to talk to Abi. I wanted to see their faces and explain things to them, what was going on. At the same time I wanted to avoid them at all costs, let them remain in the dark.

Man, I couldn't think about them. Too distracting. They'd linger in my head and I wouldn't be able to think about anything but them, now at a moment I'd have to focus on not getting caught.

Hey, I wouldn't have too much to worry about. I had a disguise. I stared down at the tie-dye hat in my hands. It had worked once. Maybe it would work again.

**Chinese Man**

The drive down Bear Creek Road seemed longer than the drive west back to Cleveland. It was driven in silence. Riley fell asleep in the back, or appeared to be sleeping. Ben stared out the window. Mostly I tried to think about what we were going to do, or perhaps come up with an alternate plan, as our current one wasn't so much of a plan as a shot in the dark.

My mind was exhausted. It wanted to think about too many things at once, and I just wanted to not think at all.

I wondered about Ben for a while. I felt like I almost knew Riley pretty well, I knew we had some sort of weird bond between us. But I didn't know Ben at all. I knew he cared about Riley and he was smart, but that was it. He was a huge mystery to me. I could trust him as long as I continued to lean the way he wanted me to. I knew he didn't trust me in the least, though. I wished that wasn't the case but I supposed it was the nature of the beast.

I whiled away the remaining forty-five minutes of the drive worrying about what all could possibly go wrong when we arrived at the library to pick up the files. If all else failed we could fight our way in, knock anyone out that got in our way, and then… what, expect security to just leave us be then? We'd have to find some computer that was compatible with our uses. The one in the library basement and the one underneath the Cleveland Co-Op were the only two I knew of.

First things first, though.

We passed the sign that announced Cleveland (pop. 700) coming up quickly. I pulled into the first gas station I saw, keeping an eye out for any familiar looking cars in the parking lot or anywhere else. Gas station food was not, I knew, ideal for starving people, but it would have to do. I didn't want to waste time going to a restaurant, and the car needed some gas.

Ten bucks and three gallons of gas later I shoved a twenty at Ben.

"Ben, here. Pay for the gas and get some food for you and Riley. I think you'll be less suspicious. Make it quick." Ben exited the car and, looking around suspiciously, walked into the gas station, with one backward glance at us. He was still holding his hat in one hand.

"Where are we?" asked Riley from the backseat. I turned around and glanced at him. He was sitting up.

"Cleveland. Ben's in there getting gas and some foot."

"Hmmm. I love gas and food."

"How are you feeling?"

"How do you think I'm feeling? I feel like a house fell on me. I'm hungry. Where's Ben?"

"In the gas station, I just told you that. Are you ok?"

"No, you plank, I feel like a house fell on me, are _you _ok?" Riley apparently wasn't a morning person.

"My wallet is drying up, I hope I have enough to get you some shoes at least."

"Can't we just go back to that place where you brainwashed me and get me back my Converse? And my jacket?"

"We're not going back there, it's too risky."

"Man, I saw you take out that Briggs guy, can't you just give that other guy that lived in the basement with me a little Chinese what-for?"

"Kill Tomas?" I laughed. As much as the idea didn't repulse me as much as it probably should have, it still dwelt in the realm of 'impossible'.

"I wouldn't stand a chance against Tomas." Riley fell silent in the back seat. I hoped we wouldn't end up back under the Co-Op, but the possibility wasn't absent. If the library didn't work out, that was our last option.

Ben came out of the gas station carrying a small bag in one hand, hat in the other. He got back into the car and I started it up. He took out a cling-wrapped sandwich from the bag and handed it back to Riley, who groaned.

"Don't worry," said Ben, "These don't have tomatoes on them, I checked."

"Oh good."

We drove another block down the road and came to an obscure little clothing shop that I hoped had shoes in it. I hated to park the car right on the street but there were no public lots around here. We'd have to make it quick.

"Why do we even need to do this?" whined Riley. "I don't need shoes. I'm not going to be crossing beds of hot coals, am I? If we're going to accidently get caught while attempting to hack into their network let's just get it over with."

"Yeah," said Ben, "I'm sure you'll thank us in a week when you _don't _have gangrene on your feet because those cuts didn't get infected."

"I don't need shoes! Come on, seriously. I can't go in there looking like this anyways and you guys sure as hell aren't going to leave me out here by myself."

I put the vehicle in park anyways, glancing behind me to make sure we weren't being followed.

Tomas's car was driving up the road towards us.

"Get out, get out, get out," I muttered to Ben and Riley, ushering them through the doors faster than they were going. Neither of them resisted or spoke, of which I was thankful – they must have caught the urgency on my face. I felt a moment of fleeting, hopeful self-doubt – Tomas couldn't have the only black Saab station wagon in Cleveland. But, upon second thought, yes, he probably did. Ben was yanking Riley out of the backseat and together we all entered the clothing store. I pushed them behind a rack of on-sale maternity shirts and ducked behind a shelf of colorful striped blouses. Had he seen us?

The black car slowed to a stop next to the car I'd parked. Tomas was behind the wheel and Crandon sat in the passenger seat, talking excitedly to Tomas and gesturing to the car. They were definitely about to park and get out.

"Go, go, back of the store," I whispered. We were starting to get funny looks from the two customers that inhabited the store but thankfully I couldn't see any sales clerks around. There was a door in the back that I prayed was unlocked – it was our only hope for evading Tomas and Crandon. I got to the door first, glancing behind me – they apparently hadn't found a parking spot yet – and grabbed the handle, turned it. It opened, to my (relative) delight, and I entered. Apparently a storage room, it was packed with shelves of boxes and piles of folded clothing, and had no apparent light switch.

Ben, dragging Riley, came through the doorway and just before I carefully shut the door I saw what must have been Crandon coming up the sidewalk from the right. _Click._

"Isn't there a light switch?" asked Ben.

"Shhh, I didn't see one. Come this way," I said, and grabbed Ben by the shirtsleeve. If I remembered right it was a clear shot to the back of the room, then maybe we'd get lucky and find the secret magical passageway that led directly to the library basement.

It was hopeless.

Nonetheless I continued to lead Ben through the blackness and only bumped into the shelves once, surprising since I wasn't walking slowly, exactly. What if Crandon and Tomas were asking the customers if they'd seen us? If they opened the door to this room right now we'd be doomed. I had no backup stories at the moment.

I'd reached the back wall. I turned right and continued walking, and then joyously realized that I'd shoved my cell phone into my pocket. I took it out and opened it, aiming it into the darkness. It didn't illuminate much but at least I'd be able to see if I was about to run directly into something.

"Why," whispered Riley from behind me somewhere, "isn't there a light switch?"

"Shhh." Even if we'd found one it was in our best interests to keep it off.

My hand hit a doorknob.

I opened it, relieved it wasn't locked. Holding my cell phone out in front of me, I could see nothing of what was inside, except that there wasn't immediate danger of us falling down a flight of stairs. I ushered Ben and Riley into the room, then backed in myself. I slowly began pulling the door shut, but paused, thinking I'd heard a click on the other end of the room. Voices behind the door separating the storage room with the store. _Just customers._ I shut the door.

The one on the other end of the room opened. I shut my phone as quietly as I could, and whispered,

"Not a sound," in one of those voices so quiet it sounds like a breeze weaving through some terribly unmowed grass. I hoped they'd heard me. None of us moved.

I heard some very faint footsteps, hesitant, slow.

Briefly I was reminded of my childhood, hide-and-seek, how that nervous excitement had been there when you were hiding. How terrible it was to know that in this case if we were found we'd likely be killed.

**Hmm… uncooked ending, if I do say so myself… another transition chapter. I have an idea of where I'm going but I didn't quite know how to get there. And I haven't gotten there yet. I'm hoping to type up one more chapter pretty quick-like, in the next two days, before I disappear until June. Until then I'll have a while to do some brainstorming and maybe think up an ending while trying not to get eaten by bears or contracting a fatal case of hypothermia. If I don't get that next chapter in , I hope you punks have a pleasant spring! Bork bork bork!**


	17. Chapter 17

**I are back. Sorry I couldn't get another in before I left, I had to scramble to even get packed on time. **

**Let's all pretend that Tomas has an awesome motorcycle **_**and **_**an awesome car AND an awesome, high-paying job that would justify his ownership of the two. Yay, fiction.**

**Disclaim – Ben and Riley aren't mine.**

**Chinese Man**

The footsteps couldn't have been Tomas's. They were too slow and, even in their barely audible falls, way too loud. They were accompanied by a light, faint and bluish, that I could see shining down on the ground near the base of the closet door. It was probably Crandon with his cell phone.

Oh, we were dead. There was no reason Crandon shouldn't open the closet door right now.

The footsteps paused, before almost rushing back the way they'd come.

I let out the breath I'd been holding and felt a faint breeze on my neck from someone behind me that had done the same. Situation still not good – I wondered why Crandon had turned and left like he had. Why hadn't he opened our door? Was Tomas with him, waiting near the entry to this storage room?

We waited in there for what felt like five minutes. It was probably two before my legs started cramping up and despite my will to remain silent, I had to stand up. Someone stood up behind me as well, knees cracking. I opened my cell phone again, grateful that the cheery 'welcome' jingle was turned off. I turned around and aimed it at the back of the closet.

Ben screwed up his eyes at the sudden light. Riley was still crouching on the ground, looked around at his illuminated surroundings. We definitely weren't in a closet.

We were at the top of a staircase.

Was this luck or just a dumb idea? Whatever was at the bottom, it was probably a dead end. I took a step towards the edge and shone my light around. Now that my eyes had been in the darkness for longer, I could see more with what the phone was giving me.

Ben pointed to the side of the staircase, where a small sign was tacked to the wall. _Truckers please see manager – Use front door. _That meant there was another door around here somewhere, and odds were it was at the bottom of this staircase. It looked as if it was used for restocking merchandise; that made sense, since this store sat upon the one street in miles that had a slope to it. It had better be unlocked. I started down the staircase, cringing at the squeaky, wooden steps. I passed a light switch but ignored it. I heard Ben and Riley following me down.

Once I reached the bottom I had no idea which way to go. We were now in a room that contained a whole bunch of weird mechanical contraptions, looming out of the darkness and tinted blue. Water heater (how old _was _this place?), water softener, huge coils of ductwork, straight out of _Brazil_. As if this was the basement to some forty year old house.

I crouched low and looked at the cold, hard basement floor. I saw a path of old, dusty footprints going from the left side of the room to the staircase. Straightening back up, I bumped into Riley, who'd been leaning over my shoulder, trying to see what I was looking at.

"This way," I whispered, taking off to the left, wondering why I'd said 'this way' when they could plainly see that I'd turned left. I wasn't too upset with myself for making unneeded noise, though. Things were looking better, if not brighter – we were about to escape.

Escape what, though? Tomas and Crandon knew we were lurking around here somewhere, they'd seen the car. Well, we certainly weren't able to do anything helpful while we were trapped in the back of a clothing store, so this was definitely an improvement.

"Hurgh," said Riley, which is about what I was thinking when he said it, except when someone presses the barrel of a gun to my temple I don't feel the need to voice my surprise.

**.**

**Ben**

**.**

I turned around upon hearing Riley's strange emittence, but perceived movement ahead of me as well. I backed away and heard that unmistakable clicking sound of a bullet being rotated into place.

"Ben," said a voice I didn't recognize. "Don't move. Try anything and Riley gets hurt."

Confusion? Why, yes. Who was this person and why were they lurking in the basement of some clothing outlet? A flashlight was clicked on, aiming straight into my face. Through my almost-blindness I could see four sets of feet on the ground – Riley's shoeless ones backed by cracking brown ones that I didn't recognize. The Chinese Man's dusty black ones backed by a pair of dark brown oxfords. I had to do something.

"Who are you?" I asked, temporarily willing my eyes to see through the shine of the flashlight, see the faces of the attackers. All I saw was a glimpse of Riley's face, looking a bit like a fish that'd been flopping around on the bottom of the boat for too long. I could see a hairy, wiry forearm wrapped around his neck and a gun pressed to his head.

"You'll learn soon enough. Go," said the voice behind the Chinese Man, whose predicament I guessed to be about the same as Riley's.

"Go where?"

"Exit. Go left. Stop at the door." I didn't have a choice. I turned my back to my friends and walked slowly towards what I hoped was the door, that shiny rectangle illuminated by the flashlight behind me. When I stood in front of it I stopped and turned. Flashlight in my face again.

"Stand over there," he said, gesturing with his flashlight. I relocated myself. The guy with the flashlight kept it on my face while the other one opened the door, looked around, and stepped outside. Daylight came flooding through and I would have squinted had it not been for the fact that I was already squinting. The guy outside was indeed dragging the Chinese Man along in much the same manor that Riley was being held – the Chinese Man looked at me for a brief moment, an expression that I took to be anything but reassuring on his face, before he was yanked around and his captor beckoned me through the doorway.

His captor was one creepy-looking fellow. His hair was pulled back in a long, tangled, greasy ponytail, reminding me curiously of shredded snake guts. His frame was small, but not smaller than the Chinese Man, and probably more compact than the existence of matter before the theoretical Big Bang. As I stepped through the doorway the man shoved the Chinese Man away from himself and leveled his gun in our general direction.

"Any funny business and I'll shoot." The Chinese Man raised his hand half-heartedly.

"Tomas-"

"Shuttup, you. You know I'll do it." So this was the infamous Tomas. Who'd been the instrumental hand that put Riley through so much misery. I felt the rage boil up and instantly I more than hated this man – now he may as well have been Satan. I had met some vile people in my day but each one of them had ended up having some kind of miniscule streak of good in them.

Now, with Tomas, even if he had a streak of good, I doubt I would have acknowledged its presence. I wanted to pick up a sledge hammer and pound his head into the ground , end his miserable reign over our predicament and destroy his ugly chiseled face in a mess of tissue and blood and ground-up bone. Fortunately for him there were no sledgehammers, or equivalent, in the near vicinity. I merely glared at him.

"Ben," he said, nodding to me. Glaring right back. He looked like he knew what I was thinking, and was reveling in my helplessness. A hint of a sneer tugged at his lip.

The other man, who I assumed was Crandon, came through the doorway, pushing Riley in front of him. Crandon looked about as confused as I'd felt at the beginning of our encounter; his eyes kept flickering to the Chinese Man, who stared back. Crandon was a full head taller than Riley, putting him a bit taller than myself, but not by much.

My eyes flickered between Riley and Tomas. Tomas stopped staring at me long enough to watch as Riley's eyes stopped squinting and landed on Tomas. I expected Riley to have some kind of negative reaction upon once again seeing Tomas's face, but nothing changed. Riley glared at Tomas, Tomas glared at Riley. Riley shot a look in my direction and must have caught some kind of bewilderment or shock or something on my part, because he kept staring at me for a while, asking a silent question.

A pause passed between the five of us. It would have been awkward but I'm guessing Riley, the Chinese Man, and I were too scared to think about awkwardness at the time, and Tomas seemed to be at peace with taking a few moments to glare at Riley. Crandon probably felt awkward, but I got the sense that he didn't really know what was going on anymore. Tomas took a step towards Riley, while keeping his gun and one eye aimed at the Chinese Man and I.

"Riley," he said, for no apparent reason. Was he looking for a reaction? He had a look on his face that was near triumph, as if he delighted in letting Riley know that he once again had power over him. The expression was aggravating. Riley turned his gaze on the man.

"What, you want me to scream like a pansy at the sight of your face? You think I didn't recognize your voice back in there?" The last word had scarcely left his mouth before Tomas suddenly had his fingers pinching the back of Riley's neck. An unsaid signal told Crandon to let go, and Tomas, knocked from his mental pedestal, pushed Riley towards the car, which I now saw was parked in the alleyway that we stood in. Crandon aimed his gun at us but still looked utterly confused. I took a few steps toward the car, sure that Crandon wouldn't shoot me, as Tomas shoved Riley into the backseat.

"Ben," he said, "Shotgun. You," he said, pointing to the Chinese Man, "Between Crandon and Riley in the back." Once again the barrel of his gun followed our moves as we made our way to the car and climbed in. Once I had shut my door I turned in my seat to look at Riley, who was rubbing the back of his neck.

"You ok?"

"Yeah, fine."

"Shuttup, you two," growled Tomas as he took the driver's seat. Crandon slammed his door and kept his gun low. He no longer looked confused, per sé, but there was definitely something strange about the way he was acting.

"Nobody talks." I watched out of the corner of my eye as Tomas maneuvered the car onto the little road and turned onto main. At least he wasn't driving like a maniac. He probably didn't want to attract the attention of police.

Undoubtedly he was going to take us to the Co-op that Riley and the Chinese Man had talked about. Take us there and try to get Riley to hack something or another. Obviously he still had some use in mind for Riley, or he would have killed him. He probably wanted the Chinese Man for the same purpose – any information he didn't have.

And me? Why was I still alive?

It struck me that I was probably how Tomas intended to make Riley do things for him. Leverage. The thought frightened me so I dismissed it. He wouldn't have to touch me if I took action. Maybe if I punched him, right now, knocked him out.

Crandon was aiming a gun at me. It wouldn't work.

I could grab Crandon's gun and shoot Tomas!

Who was I kidding, I'd get my hand blown off.

Tomas pulled the car up in front of the Co-op. He took his gun out and, while aiming it at me, got out of the car. This was a huge risk – what if somebody saw? I stepped out carefully, looking up and down the street. No-one in sight; I guess that came with small towns in Utah. Small towns in general. Riley and the Chinese Man were out of the car, Crandon approaching the door to the store with a set of keys. Why was it locked? "Is it Sunday?" I asked of Tomas. He didn't grace me with a response.

"What time is it?" I tried.

"Go in," he muttered, gesturing. Riley hesitated in front of me, for the first time showing fear at the prospect of his own return to the place. He kept walking, though. I wanted to tell him, "It's ok," but again, like so many times these past few days, clearly it wasn't ok. Odds were we were all going to die. I'd have loved to naively believe that the good guys always come out on top in times like these, but this wasn't just a movie or book laced with glittering morals and opportune moments. This was life, and, as life was prone to do, it stunk.

**So short chapter, but it's something. Bjork!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Look, two chapters in 24 hours! Probably could have squished them both into one chapter but I had no idea I'd write this second one.**

**Riley**

**.**

This stunk.

I'm gonna blame my sudden flashback on my exhaustion, relative dehydration, general pain, and Tomas's looming presence.

_Washing dishes. Like I did pretty much every other day in the summer between my senior year of high school and my freshman year of college. I hated washing dishes. The warm water made me feel feverish, the old spaghetti sauce in the cans and on the plates made me nauseous, and when ever I reached into the cupboard below me for more dish detergent I'd get a waft of the compost bucket. Then I'd straighten back up and look into the brown, slightly-sudsy water, little bits of waterlogged rice that had been sitting at the bottom of a bowl collecting all that summer dampness, shreds of fermented mango from the Tupperware that had sat on the counter, closed, for two days, and of course the Tupperware itself, which would never shed the smell of rotting mango, no matter how much I scrubbed. Man, I hated Tupperware. I even hated the _word _Tupperware. 'Tupper'. Where the cow did that come from? _

_And now I had to wash that stupid, cursed cast-iron flipper. _

_I hated cast-iron more than I hated Tupperware._

_Cast-iron was heavy, bulky, heavy, hard to clean, and heavy. But the worst, the flipper, wasn't heavy. It was smelly. It made me gag. I hated cleaning it. It smelled like rotten fish that'd been frozen and then thawed and then stuck in front of a fan for everyone to enjoy. _

_I washed it in the soapy water and put it on the counter. I realized that I wasn't supposed to wash cast-iron with soap, and mentally laughed. Sucks to be the cast-iron flipper. _

I think, given the choice, I would have chosen to be the cast-iron flipper over the Riley Poole of the next few hours.

Tomas shoved me through the doorway, an act which was entirely unnecessary, uncalled for, and very painful, as I stumbled and ran into the sharp marble counter edge by the check-out. I knocked over a stand of Natural Tea-Tree SPF 15 Chapstick and as a result of having the wind knocked out of me by a Natural Chapstick bearing counter, I fell to the floor.

I writhed on the floor, as anyone who'd had the wind knocked out of them would, and while my autonomic system tried in vain to draw breath into lungs that wouldn't work, my mind wandered elsewhere. Leave the hard, impossible work to someone else, I always say, even if it's still technically part of your body.

That couldn't possibly be real marble, could it? Co-ops don't make _that _much money. Crusty white and pink gum stuck to the underside of the maybe-faux-marble counter. Ben was reaching down, trying to help me up, totally oblivious to the kumquat he'd almost stepped on. I'd seen the orange fruit on the way down from the counter to the floor, and I'd done my best to avoid squishing it.

_"Riley!"_

I sat up, drawing a shaky breath. Ben's hand was stuck in front of my face, and Tomas's gun was stuck behind Ben's head. I grasped Ben's hand in both of my own, he covered both of my hands with his other one, and he hauled me up. I could see in his face how hard he was hauling, which meant that I wasn't putting very much strength in getting up myself, which was weird because my legs felt like I had just lifted three anvils.

"You ok?" he asked me, his hand on my forearm, which was, I noticed with surprise, shaking. I didn't know if I was ok, but I nodded. The Chinese Man and Crandon were watching us, both looking slightly frightened.

Tomas pushed Ben forward, in front of me, but Ben resisted, giving Tomas a look that would, if expressions could do such a thing, have withered a lampshade. Ben tried to guide me in front of him.

"I'll go last," Ben said, the tone of his voice a lot calmer and gentler than the look on his face. I was grateful for his effort but wished he wouldn't put himself on the line for me.

"Ben, don't-"

"You'll go where I tell you to go, Gates. Go ahead."

"Let's let Riley go first. Riley, go on."

"Riley, stay here." My nerves were frazzled. I wanted to obey Ben because, one, I really didn't want to be right behind Tomas, and two, I wanted to show Ben I was grateful. But Tomas wasn't going to let that happen. He was still aiming his gun and had an 'enraged pit-viper' look on his face.

"Ben, go on," I said quietly. I could see his frustration at the situation as he hesitated, but he finally started walking forward, and I followed. I kept close behind Ben but Tomas kept close behind me, so all that accomplished was making a walking Riley Sandwich.

Imagine walking through an old, abandoned house. Seriously, see this in your mind's eye: It's dark. It's October, and it's cold. It's cold because you're walking past an old window whose glass pane had sagged and been shattered long ago, wisps of rotting curtain reaching blindly into the dusty, stale air. Oh look, a dark corner off to your left – you'll have to pass it to get to the next room, where an old, rickety grand piano with keys like broken teeth waits like the skeleton of a dead king. Don't look too closely into the dark corner, you might see something beyond that frail shroud of cobweb. Oops, you didn't notice the other dark corner off to your right, or the one behind you, under the watchful, faded eyes of some long-dead dude who thought his glory could be immortalized by a portrait painting. Look how far it got him. Yeah, ignore him. Ignore him, ignore the dark corners, and don't look through the window – what if something is looking in? – just keep your eyes on that self-important grand piano. Grand pianos never harmed anyone, unless they're falling out of the sky and they land on you. Keep walking, but don't trip over the corner of that dirty rug. And don't turn around when you hear the floor creaking behind you. Warm breeze across your neck? Why of course, the window is open. Isn't it October, though? Forget that or you might panic. Oh, a shadow on the wall, following your own as you sneak into that room with the grand piano. Pretend its your friend. Just tagging along for fun.

_Shove._

Suddenly your shadow's friendly tag-along has shoved you down some stairs that have mysteriously appeared out of no-where. You grab for the handrail but you don't reach it on time so instead you barrel into your best friend Ben and just about knock him over as well.

That's how Tomas made me feel. He's the same thing as that feeling you get in dark, scary places that something must be following you. I knew he was there but I thought maybe if I was good he wouldn't get me. Maybe if I just kept walking.

I was quite grateful that Ben wasn't an old grand piano; I was fed up with running into blunt objects with sharp corners. Also, a grand piano wouldn't have caught me and prevented me from bouncing down the rest of the stairs and possibly killing both the Chinese Man and Crandon as I landed on their heads.

"Thanks, Ben."

.

.

**Ben**

**.**

**.**

"You're welcome," I said, pushing Riley back up to his feet. He took a moment to regain his footing, and I took the opportunity to glare back up the stairs at Tomas. Tomas was, I'm sure, enjoying his position of being much higher than me at the moment. He had a smug look on his face. Before my rage exploded into something quite unreasonable, I turned back around, again wanting to place Riley ahead of me, but I descended. The Chinese Man and Crandon turned back around as well, kept going down. We reached the bottom and Crandon turned left, flicking on his flashlight. We entered a hallway, three doors on the left side and one on the right.

From behind, Riley stepped on the back of my shoe.

"Sorry," he muttered automatically, but he didn't back off. He was following very closely behind me. I risked a glance backwards and saw that Tomas was doing his best to keep as close to Riley as Riley was keeping to me.

Crandon walked past the door on the right and went down to the third door on the left. He fished his set of keys out of his pocket again, keeping an eyeball on the Chinese Man, stopped three feet away and looking thoughtful. I stopped walking and half expected Riley to run into me again. He didn't. I turned around again and grimaced as Tomas's flashlight blinded me. He probably didn't like how I kept turning around and glaring at him like I wanted to kill him. Which I did and I'll bet he knew it.

Crandon got the door open. He stepped in and the Chinese Man followed, then I stepped through the doorway. It was another hallway, this one short and ending in a single door. It was also locked; Crandon's keys made quick work of opening the door. Crandon entered, flicked on a light switch, and stood by with his gun as we all filed in.

The first thing I thought when I stepped in and took a gander at the place was _Star Trek_. I could have also thought _Star Wars,_ or _Andromeda_, or _Firefly_, or any other cheesy-or-otherwise space show or movie out there. Four swivel chairs were positioned near the back wall, in front of a huge display of electronics, screens, switches, blinking lights, the works. If this had been a spaceship, the chairs would have been facing the _front_, and the front would have been the giant equivalent of a windshield, except there's no wind in space. I suppose they may have called them alien-body-and-other-space-debris-shields. But no grandiose view was to be seen down here, in the basement, under the Cleveland Co-op. There was a little 10" by 15" framed photo of the moon, though, which was close.

Riley ran into me from behind again, with a considerable amount of force, and I could only assume Tomas had pushed him again. I held out my arm to steady him.

"Sorry," he muttered again.

"You're fine."

Tomas elbowed Riley on his way in, and then, after shutting the door and locking it, put his hand on my chest and shoved. I stumbled backwards and ran into the wall.

"Thought I'd share the love," said Tomas, smirking.

"Why don't you all have a seat against that wall?" The Chinese Man and Riley moved towards where I stood, but Tomas snatched the collar of Riley's shirt.

"Not you. You go to the controls and don't touch anything." Riley complied, flinching as he went as if expecting Tomas to propel him there. Tomas seemed content to stand and wave his gun at us. Crandon stood a few feet away, also aiming his weapon.

"Alright, here's the deal. Riley is going to help him and I get into the network," Tomas gestured at the Chinese Man.

"Why?" the Chinese Man asked.

"You don't ask questions. Riley?"

"Huh?"

"Do what I say or I'll hurt Ben."

"Okay." Riley's reply was immediate, quiet, but shocked. I had seen that coming but I'd hidden it from myself. It _had _come to this. And I had no doubt that Tomas meant that. Now, would Riley choose me over the entire human race? Hadn't I just wracked my brains over this whole issue a few days ago? Except it was me on the other end now. What would Riley do? Frankly, I wasn't sure that Riley had it in him to say no to Tomas and watch me get hurt.

What did _I _want? I thought about it as Tomas approached Riley and took a seat next to him. Chinese Man stood and took the seat to Riley's left. Crandon stood back and watched the room.

Good God, I didn't want to die. And I didn't want to get hurt. I'd been in danger of being hurt, and _had _gotten hurt, this entire expedition. But to have someone say, hey, I'm probably going to be torturing you in the next half hour or so, well, that's different. Then you know it's coming. Like getting hit by a bus versus withering away on death row. I'd opt for the bus any day. And I'm not sure the death metaphor was going too far. Tomas was capable, more than capable, of killing.

Oh, selfishness. I didn't want to start up on _that._ Everyone was selfish. I know I'm not as important as the human race, but man, I wanted to live. I wasn't a saint. I didn't want to sacrifice myself. At the same time, the booming voice of my conscience yelled out, _sacrifice yourself for the planet!_ Then again, the voice of reality didn't care how loud my conscience could shout – the end all was I wasn't ready to die and however much I hated myself for not stepping up to the plate and making the sacrifice, I couldn't will the selfish part of me away.

Could anybody?

Anyways, it wasn't my decision to make. It was Riley's. All I had to do was sit here. That gave me a bit of relief until I realized that, yes, it _was _Riley's decision, and if it wasn't hard enough to decide weather or not to sacrifice yourself, it must be harder to decide weather or not to sacrifice your best friend.

Or maybe it wasn't hard for him, I had no idea. Maybe he'd already made his choice. Maybe his conscience was greater than mine and had decided not to go through with it. Then again, maybe the thought of putting me in danger scared him enough to keep any heroistic thoughts from his head. Heroistic or murderous?

What?

I could have punched myself, but I had no doubt someone would be doing that for me soon enough. Where in hell had that thought come from? _Murderous_? Obviously I didn't mean I thought Riley was up there thinking, _huh, time for Ben to die_, but… what _had _I been thinking? I'd thought that if Riley chose to save the world and not do what Tomas asked, he'd be, in a way, a murderer. Because I'd probably die, in that case.

Well, I didn't really think that.

Stupid little thoughts pass through everyone's head once in a while. Thoughts that they don't really believe, fed by extreme situations and emotions. Besides, what would Riley be if he saved just me? What would he be to the rest of the people?

_Sucks to be Riley right now,_ I thought sadly, watching him puzzle over the various buttons and keys before him.

.

**Chinese Man**

**.**

"How old _is _this thing?" Riley asked quietly. His voice, although he was doing a good job sounding calm, also made it sound like he was on the verge of tears.

"Just turn it on," grumped Tomas, hovering over his shoulder.

"Jeez, this isn't even a computer, how the heck do you expect me to-"

"Shuttup, Riley."

"Here," I said, leaning over and pushing an inconspicuous button. Tomas leapt to his feet, gun pointed at my face. I backed away.

"You don't touch _anything. _Understand?" I nodded.

"It was just the 'on' button," I said. Tomas sat back down and I glanced over my shoulder at Ben. We locked eyes for a moment; he didn't know what to do, and now he knew that I didn't either. I turned back to the controls. I had a basic idea of how to navigate but I wasn't sure I wanted to help Tomas get what he wanted. I don't think Tomas wanted my help, either. He was probably afraid I'd push the 'self-destruct' button.

Lucky for him there wasn't a 'self-destruct' button, or I might have.

The screens started processing, brilliant emerald letters popping out against black. This thing _was _old. After a few more lights turned on, some clicks, and some whirs, Riley chanced a look at Tomas.

"Okay," said Riley. "What do you want me to do?"

**What indeed… Perhaps we'll all find out what Tomas's (kind of unoriginal) evil plot is in the next chapter. O suspense. ****HEY YOU!**** DID YOU, at any point while reading any of this, think, "Hmmm, I think Sveedish Chef sucks at --", or, "I'll bet this story could be better if Sveedish Chef did more with --", or maybe, "Sveedish Chef should work on --" ? IF SO, you should TELL ME! So I can improve! BORK!**


	19. Chapter 19

**SAME QUESTION! DO YOU KNOW which CITY the GATES family lives?! I can't remember and can't figure it out. THANKS!**

**Can you write National Treasure fanfiction **_**and **_**watch the news about the Democratic presidential nominee at the same time? (Should I even try?) Let's find out!**

**Oop, and yes, Totbrf, I have somewhat of a plan – an alarmingly flexible, rather skimpy one, though. I took your idea about Mysterious Asian Man and, well, at least ran with the topic…**

**.**

**Riley**

**.**

I'd just asked Tomas what he wanted. I already knew what he want, he wanted me to be miserable, he wanted to shove me down the stairs, he wanted to take a fistful of my hair and twist it violently off of my scalp. He probably also wanted to get laid, but definitely not by me. I'd be willing to guess he wouldn't say no to an Oreo shake either.

"I want," he said, "for you to listen to that man while he tells us all what his organization is doing as we speak." Tomas shifted his eyes to the man standing to my left. I swiveled in my chair.

_That man?_

"Okay," I said, raising my hands in a 'hold up, time-out' gesture – I realized they were shaking so I quickly put them down on my lap - but I continued talking, despite a murderous glare from Tomas.

"You, Chinese Man, what the _hell _is your name?"

Yes, it was a pathetic attempt at stalling, but nobody else was doing anything. This would probably finally get my scalp ripped off by Tomas. Nothing struck, though, except his voice.

"Riley, just shuttup. Do what I-"

"My name," said the Chinese Man, interrupting Tomas very deliberately. Tomas didn't counter-interrupt, which was almost as shocking as the prospect of being about to learn the Chinese Man's name.

"Is Jianguo."

I stared at Jianguo. So did Tomas, and I'll bet Crandon and Ben were too. I can only speak for myself, but I was staring because everyone else was staring. The name _Jianguo_ held no significance to me. Sure, it was a mysterious, semi-unpronounceable Chinese name. Those are always fun, especially when used as cheesy plot devices in fanfictions.

"You," said Tomas, with a touch of scorn in his voice. I swiveled back to look at Tomas. He wasn't looking at Jianguo with an _Oh, you undercover sly weasel,_ _I should have known it was you all along_ expression. It was more like _I can't believe you._

"I can't believe you," he said. Man, I'd never seen Tomas so mad before, which isn't saying all that much. He didn't even look like a stereotypical mad evil person anymore. His rage, from what I could see, bubbled and spit above a burner fueled by some underlying reason. Apparently the name meant something to him.

As much as I liked drama, I wasn't quite in the mood for it at the moment, so I sat back and tried not to get hit in the crossfire. I pushed myself backward and rolled away from the controls a few feet.

"Get back to the controls," Tomas growled. "I don't know why you think you can suddenly pull a one-eighty," he was directing his voice back at Jianguo as I inched back to the screens. "But it has _no _play into this at all. Nothing is changed. Now tell me what the organization is doing."

"Don't kid yourself, Tomas," countered Jianguo. "You know what this means. Don't hide the meaning from yourself." Former-Chinese Man was sneering. My mouth opened before my mind could tell it not to.

"Wait, are you Tomas's father?" I asked Jianguo.

"Shut up!" yelled Tomas, and he kicked my chair hard – I went flying backward and toppled over onto the floor. I sat up and was relieved to see that, although Tomas had jumped to his feet, he wasn't going for me. He was going for Jianguo.

"This means nothing! You think you're returning to what, who you were thirty-five years ago? Who cares? I'm not stupid, I can tell your plans have changed without having to be reminded of your goddamn name and what it means again, don't bore me with your goddamn Chinese fairytales! I have the gun, that's all that matters! Do you want to live or not?"

By this time I had scooted backwards and was leaning against the wall next to Ben. He put a hand on my shoulder.

"You okay?" Tomas's head whipped around.

"_Shut up! _Everybody stop talking! The next person who talks dies!" His shout rang in my head, tightened my guts – I felt the chill of the freezer creeping into my core again at the sound of his raised voice. Jesus, but it was like I had a little frozen guitar string vibrating right under my sternum. I shrunk against Ben, hating myself for being so pathetic but not able to counter the sudden need to hide. I couldn't close my eyes, even though every second I kept them open was burning Tomas's enraged face and itchy finger on the trigger into my memory.

Ugh, now he was staring at me, a maniacal glint in his eyes.

"Oh man," I whispered, which was one way of putting the situation. I hadn't even done anything this time.

"Tomas," said Jianguo, and I got the distinct impression he was trying to rip Tomas's attention off of me. It worked. I think that may have been the only time in my life I'd have ever kissed another man, if I hadn't been paralyzed with fear.

"Okay. There are two plans. One is so top-secret even I don't know all the details. It has to do with the FDA, you're smart, you fill in the blanks. Second plan, the emergency plan, is more straightforward." He paused. Tomas gave a slight nod.

"October 1958, off the coast of Georgia, a US B-47 bomber collided with a Saberjet fighter. Both went down. The bomber was carrying a thermonuclear."

"A hydrogen bomb!" exclaimed Ben. Tomas shot him a look. Jianguo continued quickly.

"It's been missing from the government ever since. They've done dozens of sweeps for it on the ocean floor but they weren't quick enough. They think it's still down there. That's when the organization started – one of the founders found it right away and picked it up. It's at our base in northern Nevada."

"Where in northern Nevada?" asked Tomas.

"Does it matter?"

"Just… continue."

"The base has been there since we recovered the bomb. They started very small, and the first meeting place was in South Dakota." Tomas shifted impatiently. I imagined he didn't really care about the history of the organization. I could picture him thinking, _yes, but where is the rum?_

"They've since acquired… more bombs, both fission and thermonuclear."

"How many?"

"I don't know. At least three hydrogens. Dozens of fissions."

"So that's their plan? Blow up the planet?" Jianguo scoffed.

"That would be against everything the organization was working for, wouldn't it?"

"What are you talking about? They wanted to eradicate humans. The job would be done, quick and easy."

"Their main interest was to preserve the Earth."

"Well…" Tomas tripped on his words. He looked a bit confused for a moment, but then he just looked enraged. Jianguo countered before Tomas could attack again.

"You joined knowing that. I made sure you understood what we stood for."

"I don't care! Don't tell me why I joined! If that's what you people want to do, fine. But-"

"Using bombs is not what the organization wants to do."

"Look, you, first you reclaim your name, then you defend-"

"I am _not _defending, Tomas. But I know what you're thinking."

"What am I thinking?"

"You wanted to set the second plan into motion. You want immediate destruction."

"Yes, that _is _what I want, so what? That's what I'm going to do!"

"Think about it, Tomas, what have humans ever done that makes you want to kill them?" And this is about the time I fell over the edge and stopped understanding anything they were saying. I had been confused to begin with, but now it was like they were speaking a different language. And Tomas was getting more enraged by the second. Why had Jianguo asked that last question? Was he trying to draw something out?

"What do you want me to say, you traitor, I hate them because they're destroying the planet? Because I can't bear to see Mother Earth die like this? I couldn't care less about the Earth. It's just a big rock, for God's sake, I joined this organization because I hate humans. If the Earth needs to be destroyed to make way for a new age of _no humans_, fine."

"But _why _do you hate them?"

"Dammit, man, why do you care? Why the hell should I tell you?" He paused for a moment, in furious thought. "Why am I even arguing with you? This isn't what I asked you to do. Riley, get back up here." His gun pointed at me, so I started to get up.

"Riley has nothing to do with this. He can't help you," said Jianguo. "You think someone accustomed to high-tech will be able to figure this thing out? It's like asking a small-town vet to work on a whale." Oh ouch.

"Now you're just defending him. I don't want to hear another word out of your mouth unless it's telling Riley what to do to get me into the system."

"Actually," I said, joining the party, "Jianguo here isn't, in fact, just defending me. If you hadn't noticed, he did send me down to the freezer to spend some quality time with you. I'm not his favorite." Tomas whipped around to stare at me. I cringed. "Seriously, though, I have no idea how to work this thing. I couldn't even find the _on _switch." Way too late.

Tomas backhanded me across the face.

.

**Ben**

**.**

My stream of concentration was broken as Riley hit the ground. Tomas's attention wasn't diverted for long – Jianguo continued talking, about what I didn't notice. I crawled across the floor, flipped Riley over onto his back. His hand was on his face. I didn't ask him if he was ok, and he didn't say anything to me. We didn't want to attract Tomas's wrath again. I caught Riley's eyes with my own, mentally asking if he was alright. He simply shook his head in a _never mind _type of way. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, and then struggled to his knees.

"And now," Tomas was saying as I started listening again, "you're going to tell me that you were actually taking Ben and Riley in to the base camp in wherever-the-hell, Nebraska, right? So you could-"

"We were _just _trying to avoid you! I knew you were totally insane the day I brought Riley down to you! And thanks to that I did some re-thinking-"

"Oh, don't go into that. Riley-the-innocent gave you hope for humanity and now you want to become a saint and save the world from Tomas de Torquemada."

"Well-"

"Yes, that's what you were thinking, boo-hoo, whatever. SHUTTUP! I'm done arguing. I don't know what you're trying to accomplish by doing this, so far you've proved that you have no point." Jianguo opened his mouth again. "_Do not talk, _Chinese man. I can see you're not afraid of getting shot. What about your friends?"

The gun was aimed at me. My breath hitched in my throat. I'd had guns aimed at me before, but not by someone this angry. Jianguo shut his mouth.

"Riley," rumbled the madman, "Get back up here. And no wisecracks. I swear I'll shoot Ben." He sounded like he meant it. Riley made his way into the chair and lowered himself back down.

"Okay, you two. Riley, listen. You," he indicated Jianguo, "You're one of the few who can set off the indicators to launch the bombs, right?" Jianguo didn't say anything.

"Tell me or someone gets hurt." Meaning, tell me or Ben gets hurt.

"What are you talking about?"

"There are only a few in the organization that have the codes to get into the system and set off the missiles. You know the codes because you're high up enough. You've got that responsibility."

This was insane. _Set off the missiles. _Too much was happening. This was getting bigger and direr every second that passed. I hated it. I wondered if this would ever end, in a blast of heat and radiation or otherwise.

"What makes you think I'd tell you, even if I did know them?"

"Because," said Tomas, and his gun clicked in his hand. "I know you don't want to be responsible for Ben's death." I may have been past being nervous. I was now so sure that I was about to get shot and killed that I was _almost _at peace with it. Let it happen already. I give up.

Jianguo was staring at Tomas. Thinking, I'm sure, _better one person than the whole planet._ But he wasn't going to say that because then Tomas would shoot me for sure.

"Fine. Riley? Left screen, type in 'A73fY'."

Oh, what was he doing?

"Jianguo, don't tell him, it's not worth it."

"Shut up, Ben. You want to get shot?" asked Tomas. I glared. Riley typed. Both Jianguo _and _Riley were doing the wrong thing now. Was I relieved? They weren't getting me shot, but they were working to destroy the world.

Riley hit the last key and stared at the screen.

"What does that say?" asked Tomas, looking over Riley's shoulder. I stood up, trying to see what was going on. Green text was being displayed on the screen.

"Riley can't read it," said Jianguo. "I told you, he doesn't know how this system works. There's a code here."

"Great, a code. Alright, you tell him what to do, if you do anything funny, I'm going to kill Riley. You've shown me Riley's expendable."

"Riley, see the line that begins with 'TI-IR3AY'?"

"Yeah."

"Use the arrow keys above the monitor, select the line and hit enter."

"Wait, wait, wait," said Tomas, slapping Riley's hands off the keys. "Tell me what's going on before you tell him what to do." I detected the slightest hint of fear in Tomas's voice, which was understandable. Jianguo and Riley, standing on the same side of this conflict, were working with dangerous things that he didn't understand. Jianguo sighed.

"Okay, the first thing Riley entered, in code, meant 'Alert'."

"Alert, okay, what's this screen mean?"

"This screen asks you what kind of alert you're entering. I told him to select the code line for 'public knowledge – immediate action'."

"Wait," said Riley, "I thought-"

"Shut up, Riley," said Jianguo, cutting him off tiredly. He sounded resigned, as if he wanted to get this over with. But I was watching his eyes, and the way Riley received the look, and it seemed to me that something passed between them. Tomas was still staring at the screen.

"Okay, fine. Go." Riley entered. The next screen popped up.

_CONFIRM THREAT IN ORGANIZATION SECURITY OR THREATENED ABUSE OF ORGANIZATION NETWORK – ENTER LOCATION:_

There was a short silence as everyone stared at the screen. To my horror, Jianguo had a somewhat shocked expression on his face. Tomas read the message under his breath.

"Breach in organization security, threatened abuse of… what?" Well, something strange was going on. My muscles tensed.

Tomas straightened his gun arm and aimed it at Riley.

Jianguo and I both lunged at him.

_BANG._

Casing hit the ground, my ears stopped working, my muscles froze.

Something black exploded at the end of Tomas's gun hand and Riley recoiled.

**Ho dzang, **_**two **_**cheesy gunshot-cutoffs in one story? I should be hung for that. **

**Arg, this chapter was almost too confusing for **_**me**_**. It could have been executed better, I know. I hope to clarify everything in the next chapter, don't worry. (Or maybe you **_**should **_**worry. Heh heh bork.) If you'd like, please ask for any clarifications if you choose to review. I'm liable to forget to explain something because I probably won't remember everything that needs explaining. So, reminders are welcome.**

**All that stuff about stolen missiles – the first H-bomb they talk about, the beginning of that story is true, the US military actually did have a collision down there somewhere and they did loose track of the bomb they were carrying, which was thermonuclear, but I don't remember if they've found it yet. I'm sure they would have noticed if some random diver was swimming around near the wreck though.**

**Wow, this chapter doesn't make any sense! It makes sense to me, but I know what's going on I sometimes forget that you guys can't read my mind. I'm sorry! I'll make a point of clearing things up in the next one! **


	20. Chapter 20

**So I'm going to assume that Ben and co. live in Washington, DC. Correct me if I'm wrong, please.**

**Jedi'Pirate Jaeh, I knew about the missile stuff because I went to Google and typed in 'missing Hydrogen bomb', hoping that something would come up. And it did!**

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**Jianguo**

**.**

I'd watched people get shot before. What was it, one, two days ago I'd shot someone myself, I'd shot Briggs. I remember how Briggs stumbled back a few feet, and how when I got him in the neck he dropped immediately, eyes crazed, no-one home.

Riley had his arms up shielding his face. I couldn't pinpoint exactly where the bullet hole was but there was already a fair amount of blood running down his wrists. I wondered if he would realize in a moment that he'd been shot, if the first three seconds after getting hit with a bullet would pass in unaware bliss. Maybe the blood on the floor would be his first hint.

No, no, the blood on the floor was coming from Tomas's gun. Tomas's hand, in fact. It looked like the gun had exploded, and Tomas was left holding the handle and a splinter of the top slide.

The remnants of his gun slipped from his hands and hit the ground with a dull plasticy clatter, pathetic after the noisy assault on our ears from the gunshot.

I remained frozen, confused, as Ben scrambled the last three feet over to Riley, who was slowly lowering his arms. Tomas watched as blood spurted from his hand, which was now missing the last two joints of three fingers.

If time had slowed down after the gunshot, right now it sped up, making up for its lost moments.

Tomas whirled around and lunged at Crandon, knocking his aimed gun out of his hand. Crandon met him full force, and, being about a head taller than Tomas, knocked him to the ground. Somehow Tomas ended up on top and now had a knife clutched in his left hand. I could hear Ben talking frantically to Riley in the background, Riley responding quietly, and then Crandon cried out in pain. Before I could move to help Tomas had bounded off of Crandon with feline grace and was out the door.

What now? Chase Tomas, help Crandon, help Riley? Tell Ben and Riley what was going on? Contact the organization?

Lock the door.

I locked the door behind Tomas.

"Jianguo," said Crandon from the floor. I knelt by his side, looked for the stab wound. It was through the stomach. He had his hand over it but copious amounts of blood were still finding ways through his fingers and under his hands. I didn't know what to say.

"I shot Tomas…" he said, and I understood then, Crandon had shot Tomas's gun hand. I looked up briefly at Ben and Riley – Ben looked relieved, Riley looked shocked, but they were both alive. Back to Crandon.

"Look," he said, an edge of desperation in his voice and behind his eyes. "I think I understand what's going on now. You and Ben and Riley, what you did." I almost felt guilty now, because he knew I'd betrayed him. He had a small smile on his face as he said, "And you were the one that conked me on the head. Thanks for not shooting me."

"Hey, I always liked you."

"But before, before me and Briggs left, Finn called, had a question about something or another. About the Blackwells."

"Blackwells?" came Ben's voice. He left Riley's side and crouched on the other side of Crandon.

"Yes. Tomas… what was it, Tomas told Finn to move the Blackwells, told him that you, Jianguo, had issued the order. But then…" Crandon's eyes unfocused for a moment and he took a breath. I looked at the large puddle of blood he was now laying in and had no doubt he was getting dizzy.

"But then later, when Tomas picked me up he told me how he'd made that up so Finn'd follow orders. So one of our guys went to pick the Blackwells up and brought them back here."

"They're _here_?"

"Yes. Jianguo, Tomas said he wanted them here so he could use them later. I think he meant like for leverage."

"Oh good God. That's probably where he's going right now. Do you know which room they're in?"

"No."

"Okay. Crandon, thank you, thanks for saving Riley. I want to talk to you later. I'm going to find the Blackwells. The mister is a doctor, he can help you." I stood up.

"Ben, do what you can for Crandon. Riley," I said, and hurried to his side,

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I've just got pieces of gun stuck in my arms. I'm good." I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or actually trying to sound tough, but there was a lot of blood on his lower arms. I couldn't be bothered with that now though.

"Okay, listen. I had been trying to alert the organization that there was an unauthorized attempt at detonation, but it didn't work because, as you can see, this isn't in code anymore. I don't know why, maybe they haven't gotten that far with the codifying, maybe they never bothered. I don't know. But now that Tomas is gone, we shouldn't alert the organization. We don't need them on our tails. I don't know if there's anything you can do right now, just sit tight, I'm going to go look for Tomas."

"Uh, okay… good luck…" I was almost to the door, when I stopped and turned around.

"Oh, and Riley, I'm not related to Tomas."

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**Ben**

**.**

Jianguo unlocked the door, stepped outside, and closed it.

Riley stared at me.

I stared at my hands. They were shaking. If anything was chaos, this was. This was some premium high-entropy here. And if the universe was anything to judge by, there'd have to be a pretty big disaster for anything to fall back into order again. A disaster on the order of everything is destroyed.

I dismissed the thought that harmony couldn't possibly be found after an event like this, and turned my attention to Crandon. How awkward. I didn't even know the guy, he'd held me and my friends at gunpoint. But going back, he never really looked or sounded like that much of a bad guy. And he'd just saved Riley's life. I wanted to ask him just why it was that he'd decided to turn on Tomas. But the guy was dying. I didn't want to make him explain it. It didn't matter anyways, did it?

"Thanks, Crandon." He nodded. Closed his eyes. His hand on his stomach was absolutely crimson. I didn't know how to treat stab wounds but I did know how deadly they were, how much more damage they did than guns. Makes you wonder why people invented guns in the first place. They did less damage, and isn't that what people liked doing to each other, damaging each other?

"Crandon," I ventured, feeling slightly guilty, wondering if this was the entirely wrong thing to discuss with a dying man, and hoping it would keep his mind off of his probable impending death, "how much do you know about this whole bomb-the-world plan?"

"A bit. Like Jianguo said, maybe three H-bombs, a few dozen fissions."

"Where are they?"

"All over. A lot are at the base in Nevada. Some are in the Dakotas."

"Where are the H-bombs aimed?"

"Oh let's see…" Crandon took a breath and winced, paused. Riley came over and knelt by my side. "I think… one is aimed at DC. Another at the center of New York City."

"Oh Jesus, Riley," I said, sitting back. Abi and my parents. Riley gave me a worried look - no doubt he knew what I was thinking. Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse. When will I learn that things can always get worse? At least Riley wasn't back on the East coast for me to worry about. Yeah, he was right _here_, and probably had a higher chance of dying here than there.

"Riley, do you have Jianguo's cell phone?"

"No, why would I have his cell?"

"I don't know, you did once. Shoot."

"Why? Ben, you weren't going to call Abi, were you?" Yes, I was. He knew it, too, so I didn't need to say it. I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to tell her I loved her. I wanted to tell her to get out of there, and to take my parents. I wanted to talk to them too!

But then they'd suspect. They might bring it up to officials. Well, I'd tell them not to! But… maybe I just wouldn't tell them anything.

"Ben, you can't call them. Besides the fact that there's no cell phone to do so with, what would you tell them?"

"I'd tell them I loved them, Riley." Didn't he have anyone he wanted to call and tell them how much he loved them? How much he'd miss them? How sorry he was that he failed the human race?

"Ben, they already know that." I glanced at Riley. He looked tired.

"I know, Riley."

"But, you know, nothing's been set off yet."

"How do you know that?" He didn't reply. I felt kind of bad for squashing his attempts to make me feel better but I couldn't help it.

Crandon's eyes were closed. He looked as if he was concentrating on breathing.

"Riley, that's… about six-hundred-thousand people plus… 8.2 million in New York. That's… that's…"

"8.8 million," Riley said.

"8.8 million dead right away, from those two H-bombs. Plus countless more from radiation and burns. That'd wipe out _all _of DC and _all_ of New York City. The White House in DC, the president would be dead, the Pentagon, FBI headquarters-"

"The Spy Museum," Riley added sadly.

"And the CIA headquarters, the Washington Monument… The Museum of Natural History. And in New York, good grief, Manhattan alone… the UN headquarters, Empire State Building, World Trade Center Memorial, the Cathedral of St. John the Divine…"

I heard some banging noises from a few doors down.

"Crandon, can you remember where the third was aimed?" Crandon's eyes squeezed shut tighter, then opened, unfocused.

"Ah… don't remember… Somewhere foreign. England, maybe. But they weren't sending those off first, they… they were going for the military bases first. You know, like southern Nevada and California. All over, they've got them… trained on the spots. So they wouldn't deploy… the troops. Aft-…" Crandon took a sharp breath, and I could hear more banging around down the hall. Tomas and Jianguo fighting? Who would win?

"After that, they were going to go secure arsenals with more missiles. The organization has people working for places with missile stockpiles, all they've got to do is send the message, and the places will be secure. That would… that would put more than 6,000 missiles in their disposal."

"Oh lord," sighed Riley, and he stood up and walked over to the controls.

"Crandon," I asked, "Why didn't Tomas just ask you for all of this information?"

"I don't think he knows I know."

"Alright, how are you feeling?"

"Tired."

"Looks like the bleeding's gone down," I told him, which was a complete lie. There was now so much blood everywhere I couldn't tell if the pool was growing or staying the same size. He looked pale.

"Hang in there," I said, wondering if he'd be dead the next time I went to check on him. I went to Riley, who was staring at the screen, which still asked for a location.

"What did Jianguo tell you before he left?"

"He said – _ow!_" Riley exclaimed as he gestured over the screen. He drew his hand back and drops of blood appeared across the keys. "He said that he'd been using the code, which Tomas can't read, to try and alert the… Ben, what are you doing?"

"Looking at your arms again. Hold them up."

"Seriously, I'm fine."

"You have pieces of gun stuck in your arms."

"And yet, I'm fine."

"Look at the burns, those are at least second-degree."

"You know, Ben, thanks for the thought and all but I'm pretty sure my arms aren't the top priority here. Ow, _stop! _What are you doing?!" I had poked the burned skin and now wiped my bloody fingers on my pant leg.

"Making sure those weren't third-degree."

"What?" Riley asked, looking very confused indeed.

"Third-degree burns don't hurt."

"Well I wish they _were_ third-degree then. Besides, what would you have done if they were? We can't do anything right now."

"You said 'ow' when you extended your arm over the screen. I'm worried you've got a piece of the gun embedded in your nerve. That could be very damaging if we don't take it out."

"What are you, set on making me cry? My elbow, Ben, remember? The one that you think is broken slash twisted slash fractured?"

"Ah."

"I bet you'll be wanting to yank the pieces out anyways?"

"No, we should leave those in until we've got something to wrap around them. I'm guessing at least one of them is lodged in an artery." Riley pulled a face and sat down in the chair.

"Ew," he said, scrutinizing his arms. After a moment he looked startled and distant, then sat up and looked at me.

"Um, anyways, so Jianguo was trying to alert the organization that someone was trying to screw with them. But that screen came up in English so Tomas was able to read it, figure out what was going on, and you know the rest." I took a seat in the left-hand chair.

"So Tomas wants to blow everything up?" Riley asked. I nodded.

"Why?"

"Don't know. Don't really care. I guess he just hates humans."

"And the organization _hasn't _started this big… blow-up-the-humans plan yet, right?"

"We don't know. I don't think so. I'm not sure who would have told them. You know… It's not as if they think Jianguo was going to steal you and go tell the police or FBI what was going on. The rest of the organization _knows _that Jianguo wouldn't do that, because Jianguo knows that that would equal bombs going off everywhere, something that Jianguo apparently doesn't want."

"So…"

"So there's still no real threat that people are going to become alerted as to what's going on. No-one but the organization and us knows about it."

"And the president."

"And him, but he's not going to say anything. And he really doesn't know what's going on."

"So…" said Riley, "It's likely that they still have no idea any of this is going on? Maybe the organization thinks that everything is still going as planned."

"Yeah, if this system right here is purely computerized. If not, someone somewhere is wondering why they just got a message that said the organization's security is being threatened or their network is being abused."

"I wonder if there's a way to cancel it."

"Careful."

"I know, I know." Riley scrolled down a bit on the screen and, miraculously, came upon two options. _Trigger Dreamland Authorization _and _Cancel Alert_. Riley let out a short laugh, and arrow-keyed the enter bar until it was on top of _Cancel Alert._

"What's funny?" I asked.

"Dreamland is the code-name for their emergency plan. It's also another name for Area 51, did you know that?"

"No, Riley, I'm pretty sure you're the only person in the state of Utah that knows that." Riley hit 'enter'.

_PLEASE ENTER CANCELATION PASSWORD_

"Crap."

"What, you can do that, can't you?"

He pointed, indicating a tiny timer that had started, counting down from ten seconds. His fingers flew across two keyboards, and I swear he must have gone through seven windows in six seconds, copied five things and pasted them somewhere or another, come back to the screen, typed in a password, and stopped the timer at 0 seconds.

"Holy… that was faster than that alarm at-"

"Yes, thank-you, I know I'm awesome. Autographs after the show." The next screen showed what was displayed before the screen in plain English, coded text sprawled across in four options. Riley scrolled down again, and came across an option that was coded.

_"This is Base 46, come in Base 48."_

We both froze. There was a speaker embedded in the control board, a button next to it that was labeled 'talk'. Another base was speaking to us.

_"Base 48 come in, please. We caught a signal about possible breach in network security from your area. It was canceled just a moment ago, we're just checking in to see that everything's sound. Everything sound out there?" _

I reached over to press the 'talk' button. I leaned over.

"Yes sir, sorry about that. Slip of the keystroke, you know."

_"What were you doing with your hands on the keys?" _I paused. Riley was gesturing wildly to Crandon, who was mouthing something.

"Casting," he managed to whisper. I pressed the button again.

"Casting," I repeated, trying to push down the worry that Crandon may be giving us away.

_"I see. Any hits?"_ I looked at Crandon. He was shaking his head no.

"Nope. None." What the heck was casting?

_"Good. Don't slip anymore. And don't let the jackalopes in, I've heard there's been an uprising. Later, 48."_

"Okay." I took my finger off the button and let out a whoosh of air.

"Man, that was close. Thanks, Crandon. Definitely wouldn't have been able to-"

The door popped open and before anyone even entered the room, a knife flew through the air and buried itself in my knee. I shouted, fell to my other knee, was aware of someone entering and locking the door behind them. Riley cursed, the person kicked me in the head, and I fell over backwards, watching the light fixture dim and listening to Tomas's fading voice.

"Jianguo is now dead," he was saying. "Crandon is bubbling away there in his own blood. I'm seeing a trend here. The trend is don't mess with me or I'll kill you. Got that, pansy?"

.

.

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**Hmmm… this chapter was supposed to be semi-fast-moving but I think it turned out kind of slow-moving. Ah well. I feel as though we're nearing the last few chapters, here, but I could be wrong. BORK!**


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